


Thief in the Night

by BathoryAngel



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Bottom Barry Allen, Bottom Leonard Snart, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, F/M, Happy Ending, Hot Chocolate, Hurt/Comfort, Leonard & Lisa Snart Sibling Feels, Lewis Snart's A+ Parenting, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Oculus, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Underage, Post-Oculus (DC's Legends of Tomorrow), Prison, Smut, Time Travel, Top Barry Allen, Top Leonard Snart, Vaginal Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-10-04 16:46:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 67,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17308175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BathoryAngel/pseuds/BathoryAngel
Summary: After Leonard Snart is arrested for killing his father, his time in prison is interrupted by visits from the Flash. Visits that see him breaking. Visits that draw the two closer. Visits that lead to Iris West also seeing the man behind the Captain Cold persona, after he has risen once more from his broken past and escaped the bonds of prison.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter. I'm anticipating 20 chapters, but only have about half of the story written and outlined previously. More might come around.

The nightmares were back. They never really went away, but over the years the frequency had dwindled. Now, though…now they tormented him on a nightly basis. Lewis showing back up, kidnapping him and planting a _bomb_ in Lisa’s neck, had brought him back to his childhood home. Crouched protectively over his sister, broken glass from the shattered bottle peaking out from his arm, trying desperately to keep his tears from slipping past his swollen black eyes in vain as Lewis came after them with his police-issued baton. He can’t remember which night that was exactly; there were so many of them that were so similar. He had an eidetic memory, but the abuse never remained as clear as the rest. The hurt he went through all bleeds together, feeding off each previous beating and lesson and all the cruel, heartless words that cut him down worse than a fist ever could.

Barry had stopped by his first full day back in prison. Len was tired, still numb and shaky from the image of Lewis crumbling with ice through his chest that blazed through his mind every time he so much as blinked. Still, he couldn’t let weakness show. It was one of the more frequent lessons his father graced him with. _Don’t show the weakness. Keep the pain hidden. Stop your crying, boy. You wouldn’t have to wear make-up like some fucking girl if you weren’t stupid enough to make me bruise your worthless face._

It wasn’t true. They were all lies, meant to hurt and control those too young to understand what was happening. Still, those words never really left him. The lessons remained etched into his being far deeper than the scars that littered his skin. So he clenched the phone tight with both hands, and stared Barry down in this fight of words and wit that was so similar and yet so different from facing off without the inch of glass between them.

Barry had seemed so earnest in his hope and belief of the _good_ Len supposedly hid deep down inside. He didn’t have the heart to watch the disappointment that would fill the kid’s innocent eyes when he finally realized how wrong he was. Tried to get the kid to drop it. To remember that not everyone _wants_ to be saved. Being saved means letting someone in. Letting _hope_ in. And Len can’t afford to do that again. He’s been burned enough to learn _that_ lesson, even beyond what Lewis had tried to teach him.

But the nightmares are back. His hands are twitching, and tells that he thought buried and gone since his younger years are resurfacing with a vengeance. He can barely sleep. He either pushes his food away as nausea swirls his stomach, or he shovels it all down like when he was a kid and didn’t know when he would get another meal. It’s on his third day there that he blinks in surprise at the deck of cards in his hand.

He didn’t remember lifting it. Didn’t even remember who he pick-pocketed it from. Just that it was here, now, and his kleptomania was prevailing once more. He was young, so young when he first stole something. Lewis had already started taking him on jobs, using his little fingers and small frame to get into places the rest of the crew couldn’t. It was mainly re-wiring and disabling security. A few times, they would send him through air vents and crawl spaces in order to reach an alarm system/electrical box, or even get in to unlock the door from the inside. He didn’t like it at first, but was eager to please his father.

Then Lewis started teaching him other trade secrets of being a thief. Picking locks just as he was learning to pick pockets. Throwing on expressions and saying the right words to con his ‘target’ into doing what Lewis wanted Len to get them to do. The thrill and satisfaction whenever he succeeded was a true rush. The praise Lewis gave him while adrenaline still sang in his veins only solidified the feeling. He liked it. He really, _really_ liked that feeling.

Then Lisa needed his help. Lewis would go away, sometimes for days at a time, leaving his children alone with a strung-out mother forking over what little cash they had left for drugs. So Len would care for Lisa in their place. He started stealing to pay for groceries. And the happy grin Lisa wore while chowing down on the food Len acquired erased any of the lingering guilt he knew he should be feeling. Stealing wasn’t bad. Stealing was how he survived. How he felt alive.

The therapists in Juvie had a name for his compulsion. Kleptomania. Quickly labeled and stuffed into the right box of therapy and medication to try and ‘cure him of his ailment’. It didn’t work. The instinct came back, like a loyal pet awaiting his return, as soon as he was released. But Lisa still smiled, and his father was occasionally proud of him, and the thrill never stopped leaving him tingling with what he could only describe as happiness.

That had all faded as he grew older. The impulse dwindled as he focused on bigger scores and planning perfect heists. He had more than enough money saved up by now to comfortably live out many lifetimes in peace and contentment. But that itch remained, even if he never needed to worry about there being food on the table. The thrill of the chase still called him, even if Lewis wasn’t there to order him to follow. The adrenaline still ached for release beneath his skin, even if Lisa didn’t need him to give in to keep her fed and happy any longer.

So he continued to nurture and develop that addiction. Weaning off the smaller scores over the years as he focused on larger thrills. He still picket the occasional pocket, more to keep his skills up to snuff than anything else. Lisa delighted in this, betting on what he could grab from which targets whenever they spent a night together drinking at a bar. Len preferred that to her other ‘game’. She knew how to con and honeypot just as well as he did. Lewis had taught them both, after all. And Len shared all his mistakes and failings with her so she would never end up in some of the situations he had been in. He still shivered to think of her miscalculating as he had. Of harsh, foreign hands running over skin they should never touch as he couldn’t say _no_ or _stop_ because Lewis still needed things from these people.

Lisa enjoyed honey-potting. Had never ended up like Len had. So he was content to watch her flirt her way into getting whatever she wanted from her target; and Lisa sat back and helped him count wallets. He was always careful to go back in bars and return the rest. He never afforded that same courtesy on the streets, as his targets were long gone as soon as the theft was done. But at bars, he would take out the cash and slip the wallet back in. No need to leave them drunk without credit payment or any form of identification. But he still folded the bills as he separated the cash, counting out all the different wads at the end of the night.

The record number was twenty-nine in one night. The record high amount of cash $2,315. Both had been good nights.

But the pack of cards is searing the inside of his palm. He didn’t know he took it. Didn’t mean to. And now it’s taunting him. Glaring at how far he has fallen once more. All thanks to Lewis. Always thanks to Lewis.

He hides the cards under his bunk, escaping the other inmates for a sense of solitude. He needs to get his breathing under control. Needs to ease the tightness in his chest. More importantly, he needs to get his fucking shit together!

He can’t break now. He can’t break here. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was _fine _.__ He had been _better_ since the Flash. Now all that was crumbled to dust. Crumbled by a superhero with good intentions and pure eyes that just _had_ to help. Crushed by a sister who, even now, he wasn’t strong enough to protect. Blazed by a ghost from his past, now truly dead and gone, but still lingering over him. Still in him, controlling and breaking him, just as he had when Len was young. Lewis would always be there. Killing him didn’t solve anything. It just made everything _worse._ He could only blame himself for falling apart now.

A week goes by. Len still can’t sleep. Wakes panting and grasping the sweat-soaked sheets like a god-awful alarm blaring every time he closes his eyes. Still secluded himself, even though he knows it paints a target on his back as he hides the hints of escalating panic attacks once more assaulting him. Still finds new trinkets that don’t belong to him appearing in his hands. He can’t go on like this. But he can’t leave yet. Not when he doesn’t even know who he is anymore.

Old friends from his previous stays in this lovely facility eye him with wariness and suspicion. He knows they can sniff his weakness bleeding through the cracks. Knows they trust him less and less, looking for a way to do away with him and take what little power he has left. The new faces trust him even less, looking for the first chance to show him his place in this new hierarchy that has developed while he was outside the bars.

They corner him in the laundry room while he is on duty. Four men, large and mean in a way Lewis could only portray to those already so broken by him that they couldn’t see past the fear. They were newer here, brought in only a year ago for assault and felony theft. It was their stature and ruthless composition, more than their crimes, that bought them respect here.

Len leaves on his own two feet. The others had fled at the sound of an approaching guard. All of them left with wounds to show for it. Len had held his own, even as the bruises ache and his ribs scream in protest. He was lucky that time. Kept them off and delivered enough damage of his own to make it out. He doubted they would try anything again any time soon. But he might not be so lucky the next time. He knows West has pushed to move him to the meta-wing. Paperwork is filtering through the system. Len only has to wait.

The smile Barry wears when Len sits in front of him vanishes the instant he sees Len’s face.

“What happened?” He is already demanding before Len can even lift the phone to his ear.

“What? No hello? Where are your manners, Barry?” Len teases as he deflects. He looks like shit. Knows he looks like shit. His mind is even more messed up than his face. But he can’t get into that. Can’t let the weakness show. Even if he is being broken apart and torn to shreds from the inside out.

“Who did that?” Barry continues to push, softer than before but no less urgent.

Len just shrugs in response. “Would you believe I tripped and fell?”

The look Barry gives him is answer enough. Len sighs and rolls his eyes, trying not to wince as he shifts in the chair.

“It’s prison, Barry. The welcome committee here doesn’t exactly offer coffee and chocolates.” He doesn’t want to have this conversation. But he doesn’t want to leave either. He can’t explain it, but Barry somehow settles some of the turmoil currently chewing him up and spitting him out. But then, Barry always has. From the very start, distracting him from his problems. Giving him a chance to turn the thrill of crime into a game that both sides could enjoy. Gave him his trust, even when it was broken. Gave him his help, even when it was denied. And now, giving him his time and sympathy, even though Len is stuck in a prison much harder to escape than the physical one he currently resides in. Barry shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t care. But he came anyways. And his eyes show how much he truly cares. Too much, if Len is being honest.  

“I’m sorry.” Barry says quietly. Len would snort, if it wasn’t obvious how much Barry _means_ it.

“Don’t be.” Len matches his tone as he chastises him. “I’m a criminal. A liar. A thief. A murderer. This is were I’m supposed to belong, isn’t it?”

Barry frowns as if he wants to argue. But no denial is forthcoming. Sighing, Barry meets his eyes once more.

“You’re a good man, Snart. You could be so much better than this.”

Len snorts. He’s hurt. He’s tired. He doesn’t have the brain capacity for this. “Told you I wasn’t interested in playing hero. Patricide is supposed to be a no-go for you types. At least, that’s from what I understand.”

Barry sits straighter in his seat. “Lisa told us, you know. About what _he_ did to you guys.”

Len glares. “That wasn’t just her story to tell.”

Barry rolls his eyes. “She just showed us a scar. Just the one, but I would be surprised if there wasn’t more. Said you protected her and that…Lewis was a _bad guy _.__ Joe had already told me he used to take his anger out on his kids. Didn’t really connect the dots until recently, but…I think I can understand _why_ you would want him gone for good. No one can blame you for protecting yourself and your sister. After all, if you didn’t do that…then he would be in here too, wouldn’t he? With you. Without…protection from him.”

Len just continues to glare. “You don’t know anything, Barry. Don’t pretend to understand _any_ of it. And don’t pretend I murdered him in anything other than cold blood. You said it yourself. _Lisa was safe _.__ I killed him because I wanted to. What more do I need to do to convince you to drop this hero schtick?”

Barry blinks at him. “You’re right. I don’t know. I don’t understand. So help me. Tell me…tell me so I can _know._ So I can help.”

Len shakes his head, slouching in his seat before jerking slightly at another stab of pain. God, he really is so fucking _tired._ He’s only thankful the bags under his eyes are covered by the dark, swollen bruises. Barry looks _concerned_ again, so Len snaps.

“You can’t _help_ me, Barry. Why would you even _want_ to?”

A sadness crosses his face then. “Because I could have been you. If I didn’t have Joe…if someone like Lewis took me in…I could have been a criminal too. Maybe even worse than you. There _is_ good in you, Leonard. I just want to help you see it.”

Len sighs, closing his eyes as a wave of dizziness overtakes him. God, he forgot how shitty migraines could be, and he can feel one digging its claws into him right now.

“Say you’re right. Say I want to be…better. What would that even change? I’ve got ten years in here, and that’s if they let me out on good behavior. Doubt I’d be in any sort of ‘heroing’ condition in my 50's, Kid.”

Barry blinks, a little dumbfounded. “50's?”

Len snorts, peaking his eyes open to judge the impact light will have on his head before opening them fully. “I’m 42. Or did you not read my files before they up and vanished?”

Barry’s mouth drops open at that. “What? Oh, I mean…I skimmed them? When you first popped up? But I didn’t…I mean…you look like you’re in your 30's!”

Len feels a smile twitching to get out. He smirks, glancing at the time. Still twenty minutes to talk. That’s if he doesn’t hang up early like last time.

“Good genes. Only good thing my parents gave me, aside from Lisa. You’ll be the same. Still look like you’re a decade younger than you are. I imagine all that _running_ you like to do will only help.”

Barry ducks his head, a slight blush crossing his face. They sit in silence after that, subject having reached a roadblock of awkward continuations. Anything more would be blatant flirting. And Len can’t bring himself to reach the energy for that right now.

God. Did he mention he was tired? Because he is. Barry seems to notice the shift in mood, taking Len in more seriously now.

“You really won’t tell me who did this to you?”

Len snorts. “Believe me, kid. If I tell you, this will look like nothing compared to what will happen to me next.”

Barry frowns at that, ever the one to believe in _justice_  and _right and wrong_ and all that.

“How have you been sleeping?”

Len would pinch the bridge of his nose if he could. As it is, he amps up his glare and lets his lips thin.

“Didn’t know you were my therapist, Barry.”

Barry rolls his eyes. “I told you, I want to _help _.__ I can’t do that if you won’t give me anything to work with.”

“And I told you.” Len leans forward and grips the phone harder. “I don’t _want_ to be saved. So do us both a favor, and stop wasting your time.”

Barry matches his movement, but the anger Len feels is draining at the _hope_ this man still stupidly wears like a fucking beacon.

“I’m not wasting my time, Leonard. I’m here because I want to be. And if you want to talk, then I’ll listen. And if you want to sit there in moody silence, then I’ll listen to that too. But you won’t scare me off. And you won’t convince me that there isn’t still a part of you in there that wants to be better.”

“I’m not better.” Len hisses, hating how much his control has been slipping lately. “I’m _worse _,__ Barry.”

Fuck. He didn’t mean to say that. Didn’t mean to show that much emotion. That much weakness. Barry’s eyes widen at the admission, concern flooding them once more.

“What do you mean?” And this is bad. This is _personal _.__ If Barry sees how much Len is truly breaking, then there will be no keeping him away.

“Goodbye, Barry.” He says, hanging up to cut off any protests. He stands, and the guards come to escort him back to his cell. That’s fine with him. He needs time alone, now. Needs to pull his walls back into place before the other inmates see him. And he needs to sleep. God, does he just want to go to sleep.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Len still can’t sleep. His bruises and swelling have started to go down, but not enough to raise suspicions as to why his eyes are still dark and puffy. He still finds objects gravitating to his hands, and hates himself a little more each time.

Lisa and Mick have tried contacting him. He can tell they are _worried _,__ even if they don’t know how far he is falling. He does his best to reassure and ignore them in equal measure, saying he just needs some time here to think and plan is all. After all, Lisa still doesn’t have a record. He wouldn’t want her first offense to be breaking him out on some half-cooked bid for freedom.

He’s slowing. He can feel it in the heaviness dragging his limbs and the lethargic pool he wades through. His chest constricts in panic more and more. His appetite is dwindling, and he doesn’t know how to just _stop it _.__ How to break the cycle of shit and chaos his innards swirl with.

Barry is still on his mind. Words taunting him just as Lewis’ corpse still haunts him. He hates it. Hates everything and hates himself. At least in here, Lisa doesn’t have to see him like this. He couldn’t take breaking his sister’s heart. Not again. Never again.

It was only a matter of time before someone got wise enough to figure out where all their shit was disappearing to. Three men corner him in his cell. Another migraine was holding him captive, keeping him in there after lunch instead of heading towards the yard with the rest.

It was a pack of cigarettes. A stupid pack of stale cigarettes that made its way into his pocket as he picked up his tray of food. He doesn’t know when they noticed it was missing. Doesn’t know how they figured out it was him. Just that they did, and they’re pissed.

He’s slow enough to take more blows than he should. Exhaustion drains the force behind the punches he does throw. When the guard comes, Len knows his fate only got worse.

It’s not his fault the man wouldn’t listen to him all those years ago. Not his fault the man refused to move Mick to his cell, even if he _told_ him what Mick was likely to do. Not his fault Mick’s cellmate ended up in the infirmary, and the guard with a mark against him. But the guard doesn’t see it that way. And he takes the side of the other three inmates.

They search his cell, finding all the contraband and stolen trinkets he had accumulated. Writes on the official report that Len was the one to start that fight. The other three go back to their usual routine. Len gets three days in solitary, with further punishment to follow.

At least in solitary, he doesn’t have to pretend. At least there, he can break in peace. The first night seems like a god-send. He wonders why he didn’t try and get it sooner.

The second day he remembers why. Alone, with his own mind and hateful memories, is only pulling him apart faster. The nightmares are worse. The nausea increased. His hands itch but there is no outlet. Nothing to calm his twitchy fingers. Nothing to distract him from the turmoil inside.

It’s night again. Not that it matters. Not in here. No sunlight, or moonlight, or anything other than the buzzing of the fluorescent bulbs they have in here. But the lights are off now, and he should be sleeping. Would be sleeping, if the dead eyes would just leave him in peace. Just for one night. He _needs_ just one night of rest.

There is someone in his cell. It takes him longer than usual to realize this. Even longer to figure out who it is.

He glances over at the silhouette beside him, framed in the dim light peaking in from around the door.

He blinks, trying to remember stupid things like _words_ and _coherency _.__ “Barry?”

God, his voice sounds like shit. To be fair, he hasn’t spoken in almost two days. Barry seems to falter as he steps closer.

“Snart? I heard you were in here. When I came today, they wouldn’t let me see you. Did you really…get into another fight? And steal all that stuff?”

Len doesn’t answer. Doesn’t need to. After all, he did get into a fight, even if he didn’t start it. And he did steal ‘all that stuff’. No use denying it.

Barry takes his silence as invitation to sit next to him. Len can’t even bother to care. “Why?” Barry asks, quiet and earnest, with a yearning to _understand_ and _help _.__

“I told you.” Len croaks, far beyond caring as his walls crumbled hours ago. “I’m worse now, Barry. No monster out there to save me from. Lewis is dead. It’s just me, now.”

He wasn’t sure how Barry followed that, picking up on the meaning behind his words. That _Len_ is the monster he needs to be saved from now. But he did, shifting closer without touching in…comfort? Support? How the hell should Len know. He can’t even understand or control his own actions now. Much less someone else.

“What’s going on?” Barry asks. Len shakes his head and scrubs his eyes, trying to clear the fog.

“Why are you here, Barry? Did you need my help?” Barry shakes his head and denies it quickly. Len has to force himself to think. If Barry didn’t need something, then why was he here? Breaking in to a prison just to preach about the _good man_  Len supposedly was deep down felt a bit much, even for Barry.

“I just wanted to see you.” Barry says quietly, reaching out to squeeze his hand. Len blinks dumbly for a few seconds.

Oh. _Oh _.__ Of course. Len thinks he understands, now. All the flirtations they threw around with their banter. Barry turning to him for help. Barry reaching out to help. Insisting how _good_ Len was. Because, of course, someone as amazing as Barry could only be with someone _good _.__

Len isn’t good. But he can play this game just the same. He’s tired and broken and spent, but he can give Barry this much, since he came when he knew they wouldn’t be interrupted anyways. And Len has nothing better to do. Maybe he could even get some sleep after.

He leans over and molds his mouth to Barry’s. The other man freezes in shock for an instant, Len kissing away at still lips. Hesitantly, he begins to kiss Len back.

It’s sweet and slow and everything Len usually _isn’t_  with his lovers. But Barry isn’t a paid professional, nor is he an eager one-night stand. There is history here that Len usually lacks with his partners, and Barry is too pure for the meaningless passion Len usually pursues.

So it’s sweet and slow and gentle, and Len finds he barely has the energy for even that. Isn’t sure if he could even get it up now, not with Lewis still taunting from the corners of his mind. But there are other things he can do, and he hopes that will be enough for now.

When Len runs his hands down Barry’s torso, seeking lower territory, Barry finally seems to come back to the moment. He grabs Len’s hands and breaks away from the kiss.

“What are you doing?” Barry asks, a breathless quality to his voice Len has never heard, even from all his running and heroics.

Len blinks again, feeling off-center and at least two steps behind here.

“Isn’t that why you came here?” He asks, ignoring the ache in his chest that he even fails at _this_ now.

“No!” Barry squeaks, pulling back even further. “I mean, I would like to. You-I-I would very much like to. But not now. Not here or like this. Not when you’re…still hurting.”

Len shifts to lay down, facing the wall. “Then go away, Barry. You don’t need me. Not for business. Not for _pleasure_. No reason for you to stick around as far as I’m concerned.”

Barry sighs, and Len can hear him scrubbing his face as he shifts to lean against the wall, trying to catch Len’s eye.

“I did want to see you, Snart. Wanted to talk, without prying ears, if that was why you didn’t want to say anything before.”

Len closes his eyes, wishing that this was all a dream. Wishing his actual dreams were more like this, actually.

“It’s Len.” He says, hoping that he can at least break the speedster’s habit of bringing _him_ up every time he addresses Len.

“Huh?” Barry looks over in surprise at that. Len can’t help the fond rolling of his eyes.

“It’s Len. I hate Leonard just as much as I imagine you hate Bartholomew. And Snart was my father. Hate that name even more.”

“Okay.” Len can’t see him, but he _knows_ Barry is smiling now. “I can call you that. _Len _.”__

He huffs a small laugh at the over-pronunciation Barry manages for that single syllable. It’s quiet after that, far more comfortable than Len imagined it would be. He can feel Barry growing somber once more.

“What’s really going on with you, Len?”

He sighs, knowing it would be useless to lie. Barry already knows he’s fucked up. Maybe if he lets some of it out, the kid would finally wise up enough to stay away.

“Can’t sleep.” He admits, hating how quiet his voice has gotten. “Can’t eat. Can’t stop…lifting things. Pointless, stupid things. But I can’t stop taking them. Can’t even remember doing it. Just happens. Hasn’t been this bad since I was a kid. Thought I had a handle on it. Turns out, I don’t have a handle on _shit_ anymore.” He sneers at himself, hating showing his weakness almost as much as he hates having it in the first place.

Barry shifts closer, oozing sympathy.

“I couldn’t sleep either.” He admits softly. “Couldn’t eat. Didn’t steal, but I did run away. For months after my mom died and my dad was sent here. Drove Joe up the wall. But I couldn’t help it either. Kept seeing her dying when I tried to sleep. The nightmares just…it didn’t help my appetite either. And knowing that the one person who might understand I couldn’t even see just kept me running. Tried to come here more times than I can even remember before Joe finally started letting me have supervised visits with my dad.”

Len absorbs it all, wishing he was at 100% for this conversation. Hell, wishing he didn’t have to _have_ this conversation.

“I never mourned my mother, Barry. She was dead long before she ended up in the ground. Turned to drugs when Lewis started getting bad. Never found her way back after that, and I never lost a night of sleep when she was gone.”

He needs Barry to understand. Maybe if Barry does, then Len might be able to figure it out too. “Lewis was even worse than her. They weren’t like your parents, Barry. Weren’t something good I lost. If anything, I should be sleeping like a baby now that he’s gone.” Len frowns, sucking in a shaky breath. “I don’t know why I can’t sleep, Barry.”

Barry slowly reaches out to put his hand on Len’s leg. “I don’t know.” He answers honestly. “It could be a lot of things, Len. Could be grief. Could be guilt. Could be a trigger bringing back all the trauma you went through. Is there someone you could talk to? Don’t they have therapists here?”

Len snorts, shaking his head. “None that care enough or I could trust enough with this.”

Len can see Barry thinking. “Lisa?” He questions.

He feels himself stiffen. “No. She stays out of this.” It’s obvious Barry wants to ask _why _,__ but thankfully keeps his mouth shut.

“Mick? Or..or a friend?”

Len sighs, feeling how desperately Barry is reaching now. “There’s no one, Kid. Criminal lifestyles don’t exactly attract an abundance of trustworthy friends.”

Len knows Barry is frowning with that heart-felt expression of his. Len could also care less at the moment. At least Lewis’ corpse isn’t sitting in the cell with him anymore. Lewis always seems to drift further away when Barry is there.

“What do you want me to do?” Barry asks firmly, squeezing his leg in companionship.

“I don’t care what you do, Barry. I’m not your keeper.” Len bites. He should be sleeping, now. But realistically, he knows he’ll be getting just as much sleep as he is now when Barry leaves.

Barry shakes his head and huffs a frustrated laugh. “I meant, what can I do to help?”

Len stills at that, suddenly unsure. What could help him? Really? He honestly couldn’t say. “I don’t know.” He admits, more into his pillow than the room. “What helped you? When you had nightmares of your own?”

Barry settles in at that, relaxing as the tension drains away. “Iris.” He answers easily. “She started sneaking into my room to sleep by me. Having someone else there….made the nightmares…well, they didn’t go away. But when I woke up, they didn’t _linger _.__ After awhile, they just started happening less and less.”

Len hums, a non-committal sound to just show he is still listening. “I could stay if you like.” Barry offers quietly.

“Do whatever you want, Scarlet.” Len mumbles, rubbing at his temple and still avoiding looking at Barry, even though it’s nearly pitch black on the bed.

Barry moves to lay beside him, hesitantly reaching out to wrap an arm around him. “Is this okay.” Barry asks.

Len doesn’t move, allowing the embrace even though he never spends the night with anyone (excluding Lisa, but that was long ago and neither care to mention __why__ the siblings needed to watch each others backs even as they slept). He certainly never _spoons_ the night away with anyone. And _definitely_ not as the _little_ spoon.

But Barry is a warm blanket of safety at his back, and his touch eases the tension that always seems to linger in Len’s frame.

“Yeah.” He mumbles, hesitant still to admit it too loudly. “It’s okay. You can stay.”

“Go to sleep, Len.” Barry shifts closer, holding him a little tighter. “I’m here, Len. You’re safe. Just get some sleep now, alright?”

Len doesn’t reply, but he does shift back into Barry’s embrace. Sleep finds him quickly after that. And Barry’s presence never wavers as he succumbs to the desperate pull of rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter is up! Next one will be in a week, and it looks like the update pattern will continue for the majority of the story. I want to thank everyone who was kind enough to leave a comment on the last chapter. It truly warmed my heart and brought a smile to my face. Also, for any who might be wondering, this is Len at essentially his lowest right now. Over the next few chapters, we see him overcome the current bleakness he is going through. After that, we will continue to see him facing new and different obstacles, learn more of his backstory, and see him come out of his shell bit by bit.   
> Thank you again for reading and I hope you liked the update!


	3. Chapter 3

Len wakes with the lights. Breakfast is slipped through a slot in the door, and Barry’s spot on the bed has long since grown cold. Vaguely, Len recalls waking at some point during the night. It’s all hazy, mixed in with the nightmares still clouding his mind. But it was like Barry said. For once, it didn’t linger. For once, Len was soothed back to sleep.

He doesn’t feel refreshed. He doesn’t feel energized. Lethargy still pulls at him, exhaustion weighing him down that will need more than one night of mostly full slumber to quell. But his mind is clearer than it’s been since Lewis turned back up. And Len is shaking in a torrent of emotions at the realization of how much he let Barry _see._

Len broke down in front of someone who should be his enemy. Was his enemy, as far as job descriptions go. Was the person who sat by his side while he waited to be taken into custody. No doubt also processed some evidence that led to his conviction.

Yet Len let him stay. Let him _see_ and _hear_ Len without walls to protect him. Let Barry _snuggle_ as they slept together, and hold him through a nightmare. Lewis would be disgusted if he could see Len now.

Shaking his head, Len does his best to banish that thought. He shouldn’t give a _damn_ what that bastard thinks. He ruled and ruined Len’s life long enough. Len just wishes the man’s presence in his mind was as easy to bury as his body had been in the earth.

The breakfast they deliver is cold and unappetizing. Len forces himself to eat every last crumb anyways. He is forcing himself through the motions, but getting through them nonetheless. He’s wallowed too long. Broke far enough that he knows he can’t go on like this. Can’t allow anyone else to see what Barry saw. Has to hide that _weakness_ away once more, deep down where he can pretend it doesn’t even exist if he tries hard enough.

Len runs through some exercise patterns he had developed long ago for prison life. The room is small and doesn’t offer much in terms of comfort or furniture. He makes do, utilizing a slew of body-weight exercises focused on building muscle mass rather than just burning calories. Size matters in prison, after all. Someone would think twice about jumping you if you were clearly the larger party.

He drinks straight from the tap at the small sink by the toilet, given no cup to gather water in. He goes back to exercises. Can’t give his mind time to wander. Needs to focus. Needs to center himself. Needs to find his way back out from the darkness.

The morning passes by quickly, must faster than he expected. He is sore and sweaty and tired by the time his lunch is delivered. Just as disgusting as breakfast. Len eats it anyways, even if every bite makes him want to hurl.

He gives his body a break after that, knowing how important rest and recovery is for building back muscle. A guard lets him out for his daily shower midway through the afternoon. Len startles at the familiar face greeting him from the open doorway.

“Frank? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Leonard Snart.” The guard chuckles, smiling as he gestures for Len to follow him. “Been awhile since you’ve been back here.”

“Not long enough.” Len smirks at him, eternally thankful he isn’t being cuffed like the other guards usually do whenever they take him anywhere. Frank knows him though, was there for Len’s first stint in prison.

Started out hating Len’s guts. Lasted up until Frank caught Lewis attempting to teach Len a ‘lesson’ in a secluded corner behind the bleachers in the yard. After that, Frank kept a close eye on Len. Let him know how much he always hated Lewis. Thought Len was just like him, what with the Juvie record and the fact that he couldn’t even make it two years as a legal adult before ending up behind bars again. The two grew close over the years. Frank wasn’t corrupt, exactly. He would never smuggle in drugs or look the other way when something bad was happening. But he would do certain favors for inmates like Len. The ones he could trust not to abuse the some-what friendships he formed with him.

“Heard about your dad.” Frank states conversationally. Len rolls his eyes, seeing the smug grin Frank wears. It’s clear the man isn’t loosing any sleep over Lewis’ demise at his son’s hand. If only Len could say the same thing.

“Was surprised about the conviction, though.” Frank continues when Len doesn’t reply. “Thought for sure it would be voluntary manslaughter. Can’t believe they pegged you for second degree murder.”

Len huffs what could be a chuckle. “Please, Frank. I’ve been convicted too many times for the courts to show sympathy. The prosecution told them what they wanted to hear. No point in fighting it.”

“You could have.” Frank grunts. “I would’ve testified.”

Len frowns. “You saw some prisoners getting rowdy, Frank. Nothing more.”

Frank waves him off. “Yeah, yeah. I know all about your _reputation_ you gotta protect and all that. Still, it’s a shame when your sentence could’ve been cut in half.”

Len gives him a mischievous grin. “Like I’m going to stay for my full sentence anyways.”

Frank shakes his head, fighting a smile. “Now, you know you can’t tell me things like that.”

They enter the showers, Frank motioning for him to go on while he waits by the door. Len inclines his head in gratitude. The other guards felt the need to _watch_ him the whole time. Made his skin crawl. Frank turns, giving Len some privacy. It also shows how much he knows Len to turn his back; confident in the knowledge that Len won’t be abusing his trust.

“So, what are you doing down here, Frank?” Len calls out over the spray of water. After all, Frank had been up for promotion last Len heard. Didn’t make sense for him to be moved to watch over solitary.

Frank hums, turning just enough so he can be heard more clearly while still not truly watching Len wash off. “My daughter-in-law is seven months pregnant. After the passing of her husband a few months back, Alice and I have been doing what we can to help her out. Meant I needed less hours and more days off, so I asked to be transferred here.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Len says sincerely. Frank always talked about his son; loved showing his pictures and telling stories about him to willing and trustworthy ears. Len knew he must be feeling the loss of his son much more than what Len was feeling for _Lewis._ After all, Frank was a fantastic father with a wonderful son. Someone much more worthy of grief and mourning than Lewis.

Frank nods, a sad smile taking over what Len can see of his expression. “I wish he could still be here. Drunk driver, killed in the accident as well. But, I do have a beautiful grand-baby on the way. A boy. Going to be named after his father. Chris Jr. Makes it hurt a little less, knowing a piece of my boy will be carried on through him.”

Len shuts off the water, going to dress. “He’s lucky to have such amazing grandparents. My own grandfather was one of the most emulating men I ever knew. Woulda turned out a lot better if he had been able to raise me instead of Dear Old Dad. Junior there is going to have a helluva lot of great people in his life.”

Frank smiles at him, eyes darting down to the pocket of the suit Len is donning. He can feel a lump there, unable to mistake the burner Frank must have slipped in while Len was showering. Courtesy of Mick, no doubt.

“You managed to turn out fine in the end.” Frank continues on, neither addressing the smuggled cellphone.

Len snorts. “Says the prison guard to the inmate.”

Frank rolls his eyes, leading Len back to the cell. “You can act as big and bad and tough as you want. But we both know you coulda turned out worse.”

_Like Lewis._ It goes unspoken, but still hovers between them.

“It’s good seeing you again, Frank.” Len mumbles as they reach his cell once more. Frank rolls his eyes.

“Would be better if you came to see this old man outside of here.”

“Why Frank.” Len drawls, stepping back as the door is opened for him. “I would hate to infringe on your time like that. Much better to keep your job interesting instead.”

Frank laughs. “That you do, Snart. That you do.”

They exchange their goodbyes. Len may be alone again. May be stuck in this hole of a room. But he feels lighter than he has since he got here. A familiar, friendly face from his past has brought some peace to his mind. It won’t last; Len’s not stupid enough to hope for something like that. But it does help, for now.

He flips the cell open, finding the single saved number waiting for him. Good ol’ Mick.

Smiling, Len closes the phone after powering it down to save battery. It didn’t come with a charger. Len would need to acquire one himself. But with the comfort of a link to the outside world in his hand, and the new-found clarity today has brought him; they couple together to ease his mind into ‘planning mode’ (as Lisa calls it).

There is a lot of damage control needing to be done. Two groups have already attacked him. The others have glimpsed his slip in control. That needs to change. He needs to send a message. Move all the pieces on the board to ensure he comes out on top. The escape plan doesn’t matter right now. First, he needs to make sure he will remain safe here. Needs to reinforce old ties and connections. Needs to make appearances with the right people, and needs to show everyone what happens to those who mess with him. Only when that is done will he think of escape.

He smiles, resting on the mattress as the possible events play out behind his eyelids. Yes, Len knows _exactly_ what needs to be done. He’ll call Mick tonight; let him know he’s alive and what to expect from the coming weeks. For now though, now Len rests. The plan can be finalized later. Len isn’t usually one for naps, but sleep quickly takes him regardless. The delivery of dinner will wake him. He’ll take whatever rest he can get until then. After all, his battery has been running on empty ever since _Lewis_ came back. It’s long overdue for a recharge.  

XXX

Len had managed to get some sleep before jolting awake. The delivery of his dinner shocked him from his nightmare. Did nothing for the fear that still settled over him. And the food only made the churning in his gut more noticeable.

He pushes the plate away, knowing it would be useless to eat something he would only be heaving back up minutes later. God, he hates this. There are so many aspects of his life that he can control. That he makes a point of controlling. But this…this he has no power over. The nightmares. The nausea. The twitch of his fingers. He just wants it all to stop.

Frank gives him a _look_ when he picks up the still-full plate later.

“Not hungry.” Len grumbles, forever grateful when Frank doesn’t push or prod as he leaves once more.

Len tries to plan. Tries to focus his mind away from the negative maelstrom that has taken hold. It doesn’t work. He thinks about exercising again, rest be damned, but can’t summon the energy for that either.

The lights shut off hours later. Len barely notices, glaring wearily at the ceiling as he lays sprawled on the mat they call a bed. He’s been like that since ‘dinner’. No point in moving. No point in trying to think. He barely has enough energy to shove the panic down. Ignore the fear. Ignore _him,_ staring lifelessly at his son-turned-killer from the corner of Len’s cell.

_Why did you do that? Lisa was safe?_

Len squeezes his eyes shut. God, why did he do that? He wanted to, for so many times over the years. But he never could. So why _then _,__ of all times, could he finally summon the courage? And why did thinking about it hurt so much now? He should be free. He should be _free_ of him at last.

Barry is in his cell again. Len sighs, rolling away.

“Not tonight, Scarlet.” He mumbles, dread pooling at the notion that Barry might want to _talk_ again.

“Thought you could use some company.” Barry replies amiably. Len doesn’t even have to look to know that Barry is wearing that sad, stupid smile of his.

Len snorts. “It’s solitary confinement for a reason, Barry.”

Barry slowly sits next to him; close enough to feel the bed dip under his weight without the two touching.

“Yeah. Still, you shouldn’t be alone right now. I know I always hated being alone.”

Len scowls. “This isn’t my first time in solitary, Kid. I’m a big boy. Think I can handle it.”

Len smirks as he feels Barry glare. “God, you are so frustrating, did you know that?”

Len rolls his eyes. “It’s all part of my charm.”

“No. It’s you pushing people who _care_ about you away because you’re scared I just might see the truth. That you’re a good person, who has had to do terrible things, and now you’re hurting because of that.”

Len snaps up, blinking in the darkness. “I never asked you to _care,_ Barry.”

“No. But I do. And I won’t let you push me away. Not when I can tell you still need someone in your life. I just want to help, _Len._ So stop with all the bullshit, and just go to sleep already. I’ll be here if you need me.”

Len wants to scream. Wants to rave and rage and force Barry to flee in fear. Wants to hold him close and accept the _safety_ and _comfort_ he offers. Wants the fucked up pile of shit his life has become to disappear. Len just _wants._

He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Seriously, Kid. Why are you here? Surely there are better things to do with your time than cuddling up with a convicted criminal.”

Barry shrugs, scooting closer. “Maybe. But I want to be here. I _choose_ to be here, Len. If you really, truly don’t want me to stay, then I’ll leave. But if you think I can help even a little with what you are going through, then I’d really like to be here for you.”

Len shakes his head, dropping back in exhaustion as he lies down. “Suit yourself.” He mutters, the closest he can get to accepting Barry’s aide.

The brightness that fills the room has nothing to do with light. It comes from Barry; oozing out from his radiant smile and blatant joy.

“I’ll try not to hog the blanket.” He jokes, settling in close to Len.

“Please.” Len snorts, tugging the scratchy cloth over the pair of them. “Skinny kid like you doesn’t stand a chance. Hope you don’t mind a bit of _cold_ while you sleep.”

An awkward silence settles, and Len can feel Barry studying him. “Corny as they are, I like your puns. I’ve even missed them lately. You haven’t been making as many.”

Len frowns, an uneasy mess of emotions churning his stomach. This is too much _feeling_ for this time of night.

“Goodnight, Barry.” Len snaps, tone effectively ending any conversation that Barry might have wanted to pursue.

“Goodnight, Len.” Barry replies cheerily. Cheeky bastard. Len huffs, rolling away from him once more. Barry doesn’t wrap himself around Len; but his warmth is a comfort against Len’s back. It’s all still fucked up. And Len knows all his problems will still be waiting for him come morning. But for now, the scratching under his skin is quiet. Lewis’ eyes are no longer accusing him from the corner of his cell. And sleep doesn’t seem quite so daunting anymore. So Len lies there, engulfed in the safety Barry always seems to bring, and lets himself drift as his exhaustion happily claims him once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will continue to be a weekly update. I have almost finished this fic, but am still going back-and-forth with my other coldflash fic. So while this will eventually be coldwestallen, I will only have weekly updates. Also, unlike my other fic, there will be no chapter summaries. Not until I finish the fic. It should be 20-25 chapters, still not sure if I want to include Legends of Tomorrow. Let me know in the comments, and thank you all for reading! I hope you continue to enjoy this fic!  
> Oh, and for any wondering, I was listening to the soundtrack of the original Star Wars trilogy while writing this. Great background music for any interested. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter starts out with character death and violence. It isn't permanent, for those who may be concerned or triggered by such things. Also, there will be smut later in this chapter :)

They are in the vault once more. Barry, alive and well, even though Len _saw_ Lewis shoot him, is there in a blink of an eye.

Len has the gun charged and aimed in a heartbeat; habit and paranoia keeping all of his reflexes sharp. And with Lewis beside him, Len can’t afford any slip-ups or hint of sloppiness. Words are traded back and forth: Barry seeming to reprimand, threat, buy time, and even _reason_ with Lewis all at once. It’s pointless. There is no _reason_ to be found in Lewis. Only anger and hate and the sharp impact of his fists.

The detonator is held high. Len’s blood turns to ice in his veins. Lewis wants him to _kill_ Barry. Sweet, innocent, persistent Barry _fucking_ Allen. The most intriguing and beautiful and challenging man Len has ever known. And Lewis is demanding his life be snuffed out in exchange for Lisa’s continued existence.

All his life, Len has protected his Baby Sister. Took all the hits he could for her. Did his best to feed her. Clothe her. Raise and teach her. Ensure she was happy. Ensure she was well. He was her protector, first and foremost. Ever since he was eight years old and a crying bundle of swaddled limbs was placed into his hands. No one and nothing came before her. And yet, Len can’t bring himself to pull the trigger. Barry and his team just need _time _.__ Time enough to get the bomb out and save Lisa. No one needs to die. Not if they are able to ensure she is safe.

_“Kill him or you’ll never see your sister alive.”_ Lewis growls, starting the mental countdown in Len’s head for how long he has to comply before Lewis presses the trigger.

Barry is silently pleading with him, pushing all his emotions into his eyes. Len can feel himself shaking, even as he keeps the gun steady. It’s not enough time. It’s not enough _time!_

Lewis’ thumb inches towards the trigger. Len can’t wait any longer. He shoots. Barry is the fastest man alive. He should be able to avoid the blast.

Barry doesn’t move, expression frozen in horrified surprise. Ice encloses him completely, and Len can only pray that his suit is able to thaw him in time to recover.

Lewis strikes that hope down with a single shot from his pistol. Ice shatters, an explosion of tiny shards littering the room. An explosion of bits of _Barry_ scattered all around them. Len stares in shock, stomach turning and a lump forming in his throat.

Sorry isn’t going to cut it. There will be no more surprise resurrections. No caught bullets this time. Barry is dead. Well and truly _gone _.__

“Let’s go.” Lewis growls, holding the detonator tight. Len’s hesitation hadn’t gone unnoticed. He would no doubt be paying for that later.

Len follows him numbly, dazed and slow as his heart felt like it had been shattered and left in pieces with Barry. They aren’t able to make it out. The alarms had been going for too long. The cops are there, and they have no escape.

Len surrenders easily upon Lewis’ command. He walks into the foyer ahead of his father, tossing the cold gun aside and dropping to his knees. It will buy Lewis some time as the cops cuff Len. Len knows there isn’t another exit. Knows this heist is well and truly fucked. He can only hope Team Flash succeeded in saving Lisa after Barry….after Len _killed_ Barry.

There is a commotion behind him. Len turns as Lewis comes into view. “No one move!” He shouts, holding the detonator high. “I have a bomb! And now it’s armed.” He presses the trigger, and Len finds he can no longer breathe.

The cops buy his excuse, and no one moves to intercept him as he makes his way out. The cops that cornered him at the other exit are still standing in the hallway. No one is stopping him, believing the threat to be credible. Len knows that much is true. Or rather, _was_ true. There was a bomb. Just not here.

_Lisa…_

She was miles away from him, but he could still see it as clear as if she were right in front of him. After all, Lewis had already made a point of demonstrating the bombs effectiveness on their previous tech guy.

Lisa was talking to Cisco. Maybe even flirting through the nervousness and dire tension griping the room. A strained smile fell from her face in place of confusion. She winces, grabbing her head in pain. And then the screaming starts. The thrashing. Her nails are digging into the skin of her scalp, just trying to hold it all together and ease the building pressure. It’s no use. It takes only a second for the image to change. Everything above her shoulders turns to shrapnel. Her head is gone. Slivers of her _skull_ now pepper her hands and arms. Blood soaks the room in a shower of red. And what remains of her lifeless body falls to the floor.

Len is screaming. He doesn’t know when he started. Has no idea what he is saying, if words are even being formed at all. Doesn’t notice the tears. Barely registers the cops struggling to hold him down.

Lisa is gone.

Barry is gone.

Lewis is free.

And Len is alone.

XXX

Len has no idea how long he was thrashing. Was screaming. Was crying and aching with guilt and sorrow and utter defeat. Barely notices when the cops transform around him, sliding into darkness. Can’t register the single pair of hands trying to hold him in place. Doesn’t hear the soothing words and pleas for him to wake up. He only knows that the emotions and anguish are still churning his stomach. That the fear and loss still rules his mind. And that he isn’t alone. That _Barry_ is right there next to him.

His lips are moving frantically to form silent words, eyes so _sincere_ as Barry grasps him close. Len can feel the hitch in his breath. Barry is _alive _.__ Here and warm and _alive._

Barry continues to speak. Len still can’t hear, fascinated by the _life_ Barry exudes. He still can’t quite blink away the empty and shattered figurine of this man before him. Runs his hands over the _warmth_ in place of the cold hand of _death _.__

He has to touch him. Has to reassure himself that Barry is _alive _.__ That Len didn’t snuff him out. That _Lisa_ wasn’t another casualty.

Barry grabs his wrists, speaking once more. Len doesn’t care. He stares mesmerized. Enchanted. _Hopeful _.__ Barry is _alive _.__ He is _warm _.__ He is _here _.__

Len surges up, grasping at Barry’s hair. His lips _burn_ against Len’s as he chases _life_ and _hope _.__ Barry remains still, confused as Len licks away at closed lips. It takes seconds…minutes… _hours _…__ and no time at all for Barry to open beneath his onslaught.

Their tongues clash and taste and _dance_ as tears streak Len’s cheeks. Barry is here, after all. _Alive _.__ Warm and willing and _soft_ despite the lean muscles that grace his frame.

Len rolls on top of him, savoring every inch he can reach. Lips clash and tongues _devour_ as hands run up and down in the most fervent of caresses.

Barry is hard and wanting against his hip. Len knows he is in the same boat. This is what they have been building toward. This is what they might have reached had _Lewis_ not intervened. This is what Len wanted for so long. What Len knew he never deserved.

They writhe and kiss and _moan_ as they continue to grasp closer. Len gets his hands under Barry’s shirt; running up and down a smooth canvas of silky smooth skin. Barry returns the favor; kind enough to caress without a hint of linger upon the mass of scar tissue awaiting his questing fingers.

Len finds his prize hot and hard and _waiting_ in the tent adorning Barry’s pants.

The favor is returned, both their hands encasing hard and willing flesh. They moan as one, chasing their pleasure in each others mouths. Cocks grind in hands so _close_ as they writhe together.

Pants and underwear are now around their knees. Fingers interlock and their cocks _connect_ as their grasps are made _one _.__

Len thrusts fervently into the heat before him, fingers spasming against Barry’s. Beautiful, _breathing_ and _whole_ Barry, who responds in kind.

They are each humping; thrusting in chase of pleasure and _intimacy_ while their mouths continue to explore the other. It’s beautiful and wicked and sinful and _desire_ personified as they chase release. Len grunts as Barry pants, licking and moaning away as their cocks slide and hands _grip_ in absolute _Nirvana _.__

Barry comes first; moaning in ecstasy as his seed coats their hands. Len relishes the added lubrication. Relishes the moans and groans falling from a slack-jawed Barry. Licks away into _salvation_ as he continues to build towards his own release. Doesn’t stop until the white-hot flood of _pleasure_ fills him and spills from his cock-head.

Their slits are slick and spent in release. Their breaths hard and heavy into each others mouths. Their bodies coated in sweat, and their hearts pounding in effort to slow.

Len closes his eyes, unable to meet Barry’s now that he his coming down.

He rolls away, settling beside instead of on _top_ of Barry once more. They catch their breath in pleased silence.

“That was….” Barry huffs a laugh, trailing off as his face breaks out in a blinding smile of contentment. Len feels his lips twitch in response.

“That is was.” He agrees, wiping his hand off on the corner of the blanket before passing it so Barry can do the same. He rights his underwear and pants, Barry following suit. The amicable after-glow slowly fades, mood sobering once more.

“Not that I’m complaining but….mind telling me what brought that on?” Barry asks, shifting to watch Len closely.

Len scowls, shrugging his shoulders best he can while lying down. “Depends. Was I talking in my sleep?”

Barry’s silence is more than telling, and Len sighs. “It was the vault. Only, you and Lisa didn’t make it out. _Lewis_ did instead.”

“We _did_ make it out, though. Lisa and I are both safe, Len.” Barry reassures him softly, reaching out to brush his finger’s against Len’s hand.

Len rolls his eyes. “Obviously. Doesn’t mean my mind won’t fuck with me like that from time to time. Go over everything that could have gone wrong. All the different outcomes there could have been.”

Barry ponders a second before huffing in agreeability. “Yeah. I had dreams like that too. Where Dad ended up like Mom. Where I was killed with them. And later…when I found out who killed them….and why….”

He sighs, scrubbing his face. “Then the dreams came back. Only _I_ was the Man in Yellow. The one sticking a knife into my Mom.”

Len sighs, shifting to face Barry. “Is that why you keep coming back? Because I _was_ the one to snuff out my parent’s life?”

“No!” Barry blinks at him, rising slightly in effort to convey his emotions and meaning. “I come here to _help _,__ Len. Because I know what it’s like. Loosing a parent, no matter how it happened or how bad they were. I didn’t know how much you were hurting. Maybe still don’t. I can’t change the past. Not without consequences. But if I can help the future, any future, _your_ future…then I would like to try my best. Because you deserve that. And you can be more. I’ve seen it, in the past. And I see it now. Maybe…one day, you can see that too.”

Len kisses him again, if only to shut him up. They just got each other off, after all. A kiss is nothing in comparison.

The kiss quickly turns heated. At least, it does for Barry. Len can feel him hardening against his hip. “Jesus, Kid.” He mumbles against sweet, eager lips. “Already?”

Barry blushes, spluttering something about his powers. Len doesn’t care. It’s just another distraction. Another way to keep from spilling his guts. To keep _Barry_ from divulging more that will just make Len _care _.__ And caring is another form of weakness, after all. Lewis showed Len that by using Lisa against him enough times for him to finally learn.

So he slides down to take Barry in his mouth. It’s far too soon for Len’s cock to show interest. But he can still enjoy the sensations, even if he won’t reach a physical orgasm.

Sucking Barry into his mouth brings a sense of peace and heat that he didn’t realize he was craving. There are hints of his come still lingering from his previous ejaculation. The tang of sweat. The salt of seed and sweetness of pre-cum. He takes it all, savoring the flavors with a swirl of his tongue. Humming at the quiet groans and hitched breaths of Barry’s moans. Hands are hot, yet gentle against his scalp. Barry doesn’t push him down. Doesn’t thrust up or simply _use_ him for pleasure. Instead, Len feels what might be _loving_ caresses against his buzzed hair. Moans of his _name_ assaulting his ears. Barry’s eyes _burning_ into him as he watches Len bring him off.

It’s too much. Len doesn’t do _loving _.__ Doesn’t do _sweet_ or _gentle_ or _caring _.__ So he swallows Barry instead. Forces his throat to open enough to take all Barry has. It works. Barry mumbles and his hips jerk as Len _moans_ and _relishes_ the physicality of it all. This isn’t a weakness. This isn’t anything more than a simple _fuck _.__ And if he makes it dirty enough, then maybe they can both start _believing_ that’s all this is.

It doesn’t take long. Len’s jaw has only just begun to ache when Barry mutters a breathless, “M’close.”

Len hollows his cheeks. Swirls his tongue. Cups Barry’s balls. And then Barry is spilling in his mouth. Shooting again and again down his throat. Len suckles through the after-shocks. Licks away every stray drop. Reverently tucks Barry back into his pants. Then he stalks back up to kiss the taste of _Barry_ into both of their mouths. It’s all to easy to forget what brought them here. The nightmare that brought this all on. The real-life situations that led to this cluster-fuck of the _sweetest_ of fucks Len had ever participated in.

Barry cuddles after orgasming. This shouldn’t be news. Barry is tactile by nature. It still takes a battle to keep from flinching as arms _encase_ him once more.

“Go to sleep, Barry.” He grumbles, shifting until the embrace is more equal that most portrayals of _spooning _.__

Their legs are entangled. Arms holding sweaty flesh close. Foreheads resting against each other on a single pillow. But Barry complies with a small smile quickly. He snores lightly, breaths huffing against Len’s lips. And Len can’t find the heart to fight sleep after that. Fuck the nightmares. They harassed him enough for one night. And with Barry here with him, the fear they bring eases. He would take all the nightmares in the world, so long as it meant being comforted by such an amazing person and in such a _blissful_ way.

So Barry sleeps, and Len soon follows. Len will still be a convicted criminal come morning. And Barry will always remain the goody-two-shoes superhero. But they have each other for now. And hours still remain until dawn. So Barry sleeps, and Len sleeps, and all is right for them. At least, all is right for the rest of their night.

XXX

Barry is gone again come morning. Frank brings his breakfast into his room instead of simply sliding it through the door slot. Len glances up at him, accepting the offered tray.

“Hospitality has improved since my last visit. 5 stars.” He drawls, picking at the food.

Frank snorts, shaking his head. “Cut the shit, Snart. Guard heard you yelling all the way from the security room last night. Word spreads. Just be thankful we don’t overlap with gen pop guards.”

Len nods, glaring at the food. “Don’t worry about it, Frank. I have it under control.”

“Sure.” Frank snorts, shaking his head before going to sit. Len just manages to move the blanket out of the way in time. Frank lifts an eyebrow at the obvious stains scattering the sheet. Len just shrugs, mumbling, “Helps me sleep.”

Frank manages to chuckle at that. “Yeah, I know all about how often inmates need ‘help sleeping’. Not like you to leave…evidence behind.”

Len shrugs again, confident that Frank still thinks they are talking about masturbation and not… _company _.__

“It’s like you said. Screaming. Wasn’t in the right mind-set to care about clean-up. ‘sides, I’m outta here today. Sheets will be washed regardless.”

Frank just shakes his head and sighs. “Never seen you like this before. Not sure if it would be better to try and keep you here. Not all inmates are that bad. Most just want to serve their time and go back to their families. But some…some of them are _sharks _,__ Snart. And we both know they can smell blood in the water.”

Len rolls his eyes, bringing out his most obstinate smirk to play. “Already have a plan in the works. Don’t worry, Frank. I ain’t leaving here in a body bag. Not unless it’s part of my bid for freedom.”

Frank laughs, lightly patting Len on the shoulder. He’s been around long enough to learn of Len’s usual aversion to touch. Keeps it well-projected and short in camaraderie.

“I gotta finish the rounds. Just wanted to check on you.”

“Like I said. 5 stars. Would definitely recommend.” He crooks a grin as he finally takes a bite. Frank just snorts, heading back to the door.

“Take care of yourself, Snart.”

Len lifts his fork in farewell, smile falling with the clang of his cell being closed once more. He had only been half lying. After all, there was a plan in the works. And the wrench that Barry was throwing into his mind could _not_ mess with that. The remnants of Lewis...Barry...and even Lisa and Mick would all have to wait. There were problems closer at home to worry about right now. He would have to take care of the target that had been painted on him first. Everyone and everything else would have to wait.

So Len ate. He planned. He worked out some more. And he waited. A few more hours and he would be thrown back to face the wolves. He would have to have everything finalized by then. Would need to project the right image. Talk to the right people. Avoid those he needed to. After that, he just had to keep it together long enough to figure out the rest.

He had screamed last night. Couldn’t happen again. Wasn’t exactly uncommon; inmates screaming in their sleep. Still, it would solidify the rumors of his _weakness _.__ Would piss off other inmates whose sleep was disrupted.

Len scowled, glaring at his hands. He was usually in so much more control. He could only assume it was because _Barry_ was there. Because Barry was safe enough that Len was able to vocalize his _terror_ as he slept. After all, Lewis never granted him reprieve for nightmares. Beat the screaming and crying out of him more times than Len can count. Would have to hope that some part of those fucked up _lessons_ still lingered. Just enough to keep his mouth shut and head down long enough to _fix_ this shit that Len’s faltering had caused. To earn back respect. To shift the target _off_ him. He had to hope for that to happen. Because that was the only way he was walking out of here. If he faltered again….then the body bag was a much more realistic outcome. And Len refused to put Lisa through that.

Fuck Lewis. Len wasn’t going to go down because of him. Not like this. No, Len would do everything in his power to continue to survive, if only to _spite_ the bastard. The burner was a comfortable weight in his pocket. Pieces of a plan were falling into place, piece by satisfying piece.

Len grinned. He knew exactly what he had to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go! Another chapter up and ready for consumption, with another coming next week! I really am excited to go into Len's plan for bringing back that 'tough, Top-Dog, untouchable' image. Now, I haven't been to prison, so this is all probably way off the mark of what real life prisons are like. But the DC universe is full of drama, and so I'm playing to that a bit here. I want to thank everyone for reading, those who left kudos, and those beautiful, kind readers who took the time to leave comments. You all are the best! :)  
> Also, for any wondering why Barry changed his mind so quickly about sleeping with Len while he was still struggling, I just wanted to clarify what was running through my head when I wrote that. Barry had just been woken in the middle of the night. Someone he cares for was struggling and crying out. Barry wanted to comfort and reassure him, even if his mind wasn't fully 100% and there was lingering adrenaline from being woken in such a manner. Honestly, had Barry been fully awake, or if Len tried to initiate that without the nightmare spurring him on to seek physical contact, then Barry probably would have said no until he was sure Len was okay with it. As is, the nightmare did happen, and we got some nice smut instead :)  
> I haven't been doing up next's or chapter summaries for this fic. If you guys would like me to start doing so, then let me know and I will make a point of including them in the future. Thanks again, and I'll have the next bit up in a week!


	5. Chapter 5

It had been four days since Len saw Barry. Understandable, given Len was back to being in a cell with a roommate and open view, as opposed to the seclusion of isolation. Figured that Barry would revert to more…conventional means of chatting Len up. He had missed this Friday, which was a break from his previous visit schedule (however short that had been). Len couldn’t hold it against him. Refused to think about it, if he was being honest. Whether Barry’s current absence was positive or negative didn’t matter. _Couldn’t_ matter. Not if Len wanted to keep his head in the game.

His plan had been finalized. All the pieces were in place. It took only a day of observation to stragegize. The extra three were just as precaution. Making sure there was no change. Ensuring he had all the proper people in the proper positions.

It had been a tedious few days. Len would be lying to say otherwise. The nightmares remained; just as Len was able to suffer them in silence. The itch was back in full force. But Len had been conducting a serious of rigorous mental drills while in public domain to keep his… _.twitchy fingers_ mostly at rest. He hit up Dwayne again, making ample use of the pseudo gym they had set up in the yard.

Dwayne had been there almost as long as Henry Allen had been. Another lifer, only he was as guilty as they come.

Convicted for the death of his wife and son, along with the son of a prominent politician. Guilty, yes. A guilt the man felt _acutely._

Dwayne and his wife had been having issues. A young married couple in a poverty ridden neighborhood. Pressure came from all around them. From their parents. From society. From their work, and child, and circumstances. Only took so long before it came from each other as well.

So they turned to alcohol. Something many do. Something they suffered the consequences for.

Dwayne can’t even remember the argument that night. Just that it resulted in getting stupid drunk. And then his wife was screaming at him, demanding he take her and their son to her mother’s house,; a late-night phone call to said mother being the deciding factor.

Dwayne argued the notion. Pleading to wait until morning before deciding. Caved eventually to his wife’s desire. Grudgingly packed up so she and their son could have a few days of “space” and “decent food”. Tired of failing his family. Tired of barely being able to provide the minimum they needed. Wanting his wife and son to experience a few days of the affluence the suburban provided, in comparison to the ghetto they lived in.

Didn’t see the car coming. Didn’t notice when he drifted into oncoming traffic. Too busy trying to chide his son for attempting to escape his seat-belt. Too busy deflecting his wife’s heated words.

Hit the other car head-on. Killed the other driver. Killed his wife. Killed his son. Dwayne woke up chained to a hospital bed a month later. Lived to be convicted. Lived to recover physically, while everything and everyone that would have driven him to _live_ had already been buried while he lay in that hospital bed.

Len hated him at first. Never had patience for anyone who implemented the _ending_ of their family like that. Took until his second stint behind bars to finally have a real conversation with the man. And while Len could never condone those actions, he could sympathize with Dwayne, and saw the way he went about serving his time and struggling with his guilt.

Dwayne never cared about race, just as Len remained as far away from prejudice as he could. Prisons so often fell back on age-old similarities and differences. Some from previous bigotry. Some from a pressure to find a group and help them survive. Len had Mick to keep him safe in the beginning. A reputation to take his place later. Dwayne didn’t have that. Simply drifted towards other people who felt the same. Who didn’t rely on race or gang affiliation for a place to belong. Was _good_ in a way so many others were _bad._

Len wouldn’t call him a friend, per say. But he did trust him. And he did help Dwayne where he could. Just as Dwayne did the same for him.

So Len worked out with him in clear view of the entire yard. Listened as Dwayne caught him up on all he had missed. Deflected any questions Dwayne might have asked about just why Len was acting so _off_ this early into his latest conviction.

It was enough to buy him time. To make anyone sniffing for blood and weakness second-guess. To give Len the space needed to _plan _.__

He had shit detail for the foreseeable future. Literally. While others were on laundry or kitchen or library detail; he was stuck cleaning toilets. Meant to humiliate him, no doubt. But Lewis sure as shit never cleaned his own home. And Len refused to let Lisa grow up in a pigsty like that. So what others saw as demeaning, he saw as simple hygiene. Yes, it might suck. But it was necessary. And Len firmly believed no one should be beneath such acts of cleanliness.

The others mocked. Some even went out of their way to create a mess he needed to clean. Len ignored them all. Would take cleaning piss off the floor over risking another fight so soon after the last two.

Also created a buffer. No one wanted to risk getting put on janitorial detail simply for the chance to jump someone. Meant he didn’t have to look over his shoulder quite so much. So he let the inmates jeer. Let the guards smirk at his supposed fall from grace. Len took it all with an indifferent expression and a wicked twitch of his lips as soon as their backs were turned.

Didn’t take much to put his plan in motion, in the end. Watched both groups that had targeted him. Knew that the ‘leader’ of the first only smoked a certain brand of cigs. Knew that the other group had no preference or distinction. Was easy enough to lift a pack of the rare (especially in prison) brand from the first group, and switch it out for the generic shit the second group kept stashed. Waited another day to confirm that’s the one they were using.

Was only too easy after that. Took a promise to an old associate that they could have one hour with his burner (courtesy of Mick) for him to approach the second group. Talk them up a bit. Mention that group number one might be interested in some cigs. Might be grateful enough to return other favors in the future.

Only had to sit back and watch the chaos after that. Idiots number two approached idiots number one. They talked a bit, clearly tense but not quite hostile. To be expected, when reaching out to make new alliances and begin the trade of favors in the cell-block.

Could see the interest, with a hint of suspicion, when the tobacco must have been brought up. After all, that pack had been missing for close to two days by now. Smirked when he saw the suspicions confirmed.

Idiots denied having anything to do with it. Could see them gesturing towards Len himself. But Len had made a point of not being seen with either group since isolation. And since there were no obvious ties to the runner he sent to lead them in the right direction, well…it was clear they didn’t have a leg to stand on.

A fight quickly broke out. Inmates surrounded them to cheer and watch the spectacle. Guards swarmed to break it up as quickly as possible. Some were taken to the infirmary. The rest sent to solitary.

There were a few glares sent his way. Len smirked and saluted as they were dragged away. After all, it would be damn near impossible to pin this all back on him. And just like that, he had the attention of all the key players.

He could see the pieces clicking into place. See the darted glances between him and the two groups who had wronged him. See the dots being connected, as a collective sense of _awe_ and grudging respect fell upon them.

They may not know how, but they knew without a doubt that Len was behind this. Without seeming to even lift a finger, Len had gotten rid of the two biggest groups to threaten him so far this stay in the Heights. Word spread quickly behind bars. By dinner, he had a revolving door of inmates approaching him.

Some tried to ask how he did it (Len refused to even entertain those questions). Others apologized for their lack of action on his behalf in days past. Some even tried to sway them towards their own groups of inmates. Only the newer ones tried this. The old dogs knew Len never tied himself to one cause or faction like that.

All in all, there was a proper fear and respect back in place. Mick may no longer be his looming shadow of intimidation, but his reinforced reputation more than made up for that.

Len slept easy that night. He still had nightmares. Still had toilets to clean in the morning. Still had watchful eyes and an image to maintain. But he no longer feared being picked off by some wet-behind-the-ears up-and-comers. Didn’t worry about being seen as _easy prey _.__

Didn’t make prison any more enjoyable than it ever was. But finally, the itch wasn’t screaming beneath his skin anymore. Food no longer turned his stomach. And old alliances seemed less a feat to reacquaint himself with.

It wouldn’t be easy. Prison never was. But now Len could plan in peace. Could make note of guard schedules, security weaknesses, and suitable blind spots. Easy enough to do when he wasn’t constantly looking over his shoulder.

And Barry hadn’t been a part of any of it. He may have helped Len, back in solitary. But this was all the confirmation Len needed to know he didn’t _need_ Barry. That he could still survive on his own, as he had for his entire life.

Lewis could fuck with his sleep from beyond the grave all he wanted. Len was _done_ letting that make him _weak _.__ Proved how _strong_ he still was, no matter what shit-storm was still raging through his mind.

He would survive. He would escape. And one day, he might even find his way back to some sense of normalcy. One day, Len might be better again. But for now, Len knew he would _survive._ And that was all that mattered.

XXX

Barry was blind. Actually, totally, _blind._ He couldn’t even fault the meta. She had been sent by _Zoom._ Was scared and lashing out. Fearing for her life, thanks to yet another evil speedster that Barry had to face. He didn’t understand this need to be the _fastest._ Yes, he wanted to be faster than his enemies. But that was only because they threatened his life, and the lives of his friends. He would welcome, would _celebrate_ another speedster who wanted to do good. Would help them, and thrill in racing them without fear of failure. Without caring who was truly _faster _.__

But these speedsters only cared about being the _best _.__ Didn’t care who was hurt, or who was _killed_ in the process. And so Barry felt the pressure to step up. After all, people like that needed to be stopped. And no one else was volunteering to do so. Nor could they; not with the power these speedsters had at their disposal. So Barry needed to go faster. He hated the pressure. Hated the stress and sense of _failure_ weighing on him. But he had to have been given these powers for a reason. And he would be damned if someone was hurt or worse when he could have prevented it.

So he was chasing after the metas sent his way by _Zoom _.__ Ran into an encounter unprepared. Didn’t matter, because there were innocent lives on the line. And now he was _blind._ And no way in hell was he visiting Len like this.

Speaking of Len, he should probably explain to his budding, would-be _girlfriend_ that he had slept with someone else. That he had been visiting and sleeping with someone elsewhile they were supposedly starting _something_ together.

Patty was like Barry. Almost as much as _Felicity _,__  whohad quickly become the sister Iris could never be to him. Iris truly was great, and they had a decent chunk of their childhood spent together. But there were so many more similarities between him and Felicity. There were honestly a few nights where he wondered what he would have been like if he had been born as…well, a _she _.__ Back when he was a teenager, and still working through what made him,  _him._ What would be different if he had been female. What would be the same. And Felicity somehow ended up being the face he always saw during those imaginings, upon his later reconstructions as an adult figuring out a whole new identity as a _meta-human_. Whereas Iris was his childhood crush turned foster sister, regardless of the feelings he still harbored for her, he still could never picture her as his true sister. He cared for and loved her deeply, but it was different. Not as romantically returned as he might hope for, but definitely more than sibling love.

But Patty…he thought they could have something. Or he did, at least. Ever since visiting Len…when he showed how much he was struggling….Barry was having second thoughts. What he felt for Patty…was nowhere near as deep as what he felt for Len.

Len was his kindred spirit. They both faced childhood tragedies. Only….Barry was sent to a home that showered him with love and structure. Whereas Len was left with his abuser. Was forced to step up and play father to a younger sister who had no one but him. Was made to mistrust. Was made to follow in footsteps he hated until he knew no other path.

Looking back on the type of man Lewis was, Barry can only admire the strength it must have taken Len to overcome him. To overcome his teachings and examples. To step out of the shadows Len was forced in. To be _better_ than the path laid out for him.

Barry can only hope he would have done the same in that situation. After all, Len had a record. Not just for his thefts. But for how _clean_ they were. How few bodies followed his career. How fair he was to innocents.

Barry didn’t think so at first. Thought Len was just another criminal. But then he did some research. After Lisa came to them. After Lewis. After Len was convicted.

Barry rethought everything. Looked into what was left of him after Barry erased his records. Pieced the pieces together.

Pulled up and old paper file left from Juvie (all digital records erased). Read the story behind the scars recorded. The one psych report left from his younger years. Could only imagine how many more scars he had now. How many more defenses he relied upon to protect himself.

Read up on why he was sent to Juvie in the first place. Caught lifting wallets. Wouldn’t say why. Figured out the story when he stumbled across Lisa’s hospital records. Just general checkups, with a scattered ER visit through different hospitals, and with different stories each time. Could match up the dates between her being healthy and well-fed, and the decline as Len was sentenced each and every time he was caught during those early years. Knew he was caught trying to _provide_ for her the only way he knew how. Knew Lewis didn’t do so when Len wasn’t around.

Went through all the heists he was connected to without a shred of evidence left behind. Noticed the trend. How everything he stole was insured. How only fellow criminals seemed to make up the list of casualties surrounding him.

Looked more into their own fights. How that one usher wasn’t exactly…. _clean _.__ Had a record of _rape _.__ One he tried to cover up.

How every other potential ‘victim’ Len aimed at that night got away safe. Not just because of Barry. He had a feeling the aim might of been slightly off. Barry didn’t take the time to notice during their fight, and still wasn’t sure, but….

The train fiasco after that. Len chose that on purpose. Had already seen Barry in action. With how smart Len actually was, despite the lack of formal education, Barry was pretty sure he had already evaluated all the factors before choosing to act. They were all safe, after all. It had been a push for Barry, just as all his fights with Captain Cold were. But it hadn’t been too much. And the important thing was that everyone made it out of there alive and well.

Looked more into the kidnapping with Caitlin. Reviewed the evidence. Concluded she wouldn’t have been seriously injured, much less killed, in the explosion.

Dante was fine, healed within days at the hospital. No lingering physical damage. Nor to Cisco.

Then Barry looked into Lewis. Was _sick_ with what he found. It wasn’t just the bodies that followed him (though they did play a part). It was his callous nature. His caustic interviews. His blatant disregard for the _hurt_ he caused. Hell, he had gotten a handful of undercover policemen _killed_ back before he got caught. All to make a _buck_. To make a _name_ for himself with the Santini’s.

The same Santini’s who Len ran out of town. So yeah, Barry was starting to think he understood Len a bit more. Could see more of himself in the man so intent on keeping himself shielded from everyone.

That was part of why Barry was so pissed he was blind right now, since he couldn’t see how Len had been doing back in gen pop the last few days. That, and he also knew he was being unfair to Patty. He had been avoiding her recently. Ever since he and Len had…. _slept_ together in the less PG sense of the word.

Which wasn’t fair to her. And was why he asked her out tonight. To explain they couldn’t work. To let her know he had….feelings for someone else. Feelings that seemed to be reciprocated. And he wasn’t going to lead her on any longer.

But now he was _blind_ and had a date in a mere few _hours_ where he planned to break the news to her. His first thought was to cancel. But that wouldn’t be right either. Felt… _bad,_ re-scheduling a date for a break-up.

Cisco turned out to be a lifesaver. Recommended being his “eyes” for the evening. Even told him to choose a different venue. A walk through the park on a well-defined path would be much easier to relay than navigating a crowded restaurant. Meant Barry could even be waiting for her with two coffees for their “date”.

Also meant a quick get-away without worrying about the check if things did go south. Not that he thought Patty was the type to “make a scene” or, god forbid, resort of violence. Still, if they ended up too uncomfortable in each others presence after Barry broke the news….well, it would be easy to find space in such an open location.

Spent the next few hours wallowing in anxious energy. Just wanted to get the date over with. Wanted to be able to see again. Wanted to know how Len was doing. Barry just _wanted_ and _hated_ having nothing to do but wait. Hours that seemed to stretch on for _eons_ to a bored speedster.

The time finally came. Barry was in the park. Patty was there. And instantly commenting on his glasses.

“Oh…” He ducked his head, pushing the sunglasses back up. “Had an eye appointment earlier today. They dilated my eyes and….well, I’m pretty sensitive to stuff like that. Just better to keep these on for the next few hours.”

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t realize…” Patty cheerfully sits next to him, rambling on about her own experiences with eye doctors, light sensitivity, and sunglasses in completely unrelated stories somehow tied together somewhere in her flow of words.

Barry feels himself smiling as he listens. This was why he had initially asked Patty out when it seemed she was showing interest. Because he genuinely _liked_ her. She truly was a great person. A great friend. Even a great girlfriend. Or would have been, at least, if their lives had managed to work out where they crossed at the right time. But Patty is still dealing with Mardon and revenge and moving on. And Barry isn’t ready to bring anyone else in on his secret, nor any closer to the dangers that being close to the Flash brings.

Thankfully, Patty seems fine to sit and chat as they sip on their drinks. Cisco even lets Barry know he is mostly tuning them out, and to holler if he needs any sort of visual aide input to help him walk without tripping or crashing into things.

Means Barry can relax a bit more. Can laugh and joke and ramble on with Patty as well. He enjoys their talk; enjoys spending time with her, and savors each and every moment in case this will actually be the end of any sort of relationship (friendship included) between them. Because he would like to remain friends. Not in the trivial sense either. He wants only the best for Patty. And he is man enough to admit that he can’t be that for her right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I got the invitation to spend a weekend out with a friend, which means I won't be home to update in the meantime. So, I decided to post early! This chapter was both a joy and struggle to write, but I hope you enjoyed it! It does show Len's scheme to get back on top in prison, which was both fun and a challenge to come up with realistic scenarios for his plotting and outcomes. Still there are only a few more chapters until more smut awaits us all! I'm so glad for every reader and everyone who comments. I know I have a habit of posting music and videos, but I like to put my readers into the same mind-set (if they want to check them out) as I pursue when writing. This video is darker than most. It isn't necessarily for this chapter, but one of the dark-places sort of music I pursue while writing heavy material. Watch at your own risk, and I hope this chapter was able to wet your metaphorical chops as far as fiction goes :)   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qggxTtnKTMo


	6. Chapter 6

Barry visited him again the next week. Len had been sailing easy ever since his big play. Didn’t meant he wasn’t being watched. Didn’t mean the nightmares were gone. Didn’t mean his twitchy fingers weren’t still a problem.

But he was still _better _.__ Wasn’t drowning as he had been. Wasn’t a blatant target any more. And the paperwork was still in play. Only a few more weeks before he would be transferred.

It would be similar to solitary, something Len despised. But he would at least be afforded some semblance of interaction. And the safety provided was nothing to sneer at either. On top of that, it would provide a _challenge _.__ Len had never had to break out of a wing as secure as that. It would take months, no doubt. But it would be _invigorating._ Something to keep his mind occupied, and provide enough of an obstacle to give even him a run for his money. Much better than attempting another heist in this state. No better way to truly find his feet again, in Len’s opinion.

Barry was waiting for him. He looked worn down and beaten in a way Len had never seen him before. He had heard rumors, of course. Of the black-clad speedster. Of what a parody he made of the Flash, parading him around town and in front of cameras after he was already beaten and broken. Could only imagine what Barry had gone through. It had happened after their last visit was ‘scheduled’ to take place. A schedule Barry was finally picking up once more.

Len didn’t say anything when he snatched up the phone. Simply observed the civilian-garbed speedster. Whatever games they played, and whatever…lusts they explored; it was only Barry now. Even encased in ice and defeated, Barry had still defied him. This Barry lacked that fight. The hope that forever burned in his eyes was extinguished. Honestly….looking at Barry now, it felt more like looking into a mirror on most days. And Len hated that.

“Len.” Barry eventually greets when Len spends too long glaring at the bags under his eyes.

“Barry.” He replies evenly. “I know this is usually your line, but…you look like shit.”

Barry chuckles darkly. “Well, you look better at least.”

Len huffs and glances away. “I sorted through some things. Made certain…points that won’t be ignored. Doesn’t mean it’s all sunshine and rainbows. Clearly, you’ve seen your fair share of rain-clouds recently.”

Barry seems to understand what Len is saying. Alluding to activities that could incriminate him as the Flash. Reminding him to watch what he says, even as he so often forgets that his secret identity is supposed to remain, well, _secret_.

Barry droops slightly and nods. “Yeah. I’ve…had a few rough days recently.”

“I bet.” Len keeps sweeping his gaze, hoping that the exhaustion and pain he sees will have been nothing more than an illusion. It doesn’t work. The damage and stress remains unchanged, no matter how hard he looks.

“How are your friends? Still helping you out?”

“Yeah.” Barry does smile slightly at that. They chat for some time. Len is satisfied that Barry isn’t alone, and is receiving the support and help he needs thus far. Flash has allies, after all. And Zoom is powerful. They won’t leave Barry to hang out to dry by himself again.

Next time Zoom shows his face…Barry won’t be facing him alone.

They eventually meander back to Len. That was all Barry’s doing, but Len is happy to humor him.

He talks about his cellmate. How the new meat he got stuck with snores like a freight train in his cell. How he spotted another inmate the other day who bit off more than he could chew. The minute they all spent laughing as he struggled to lift a weight at least 50 pounds heavier than he could handle in an effort to look tougher than he was, before Len took pity and helped him out.

How after Taco Tuesday, one inmate ended up with food poisoning bad enough to send him to the infirmary. Len, still being on shit detail, took great delight in using his most colorful descriptions to depict cleaning that mess up.

Barry’s nose was wrinkled in disgust, but he was still bent over in laughter by the end. Len felt his lips twitching in a grin, wondering how and when he came to enjoy Barry so much.

He had always sought after him. Barry as the Flash was a challenge, after all. But it quickly became more than that. Became more… _equal._ More human. More _personal_. Even before Barry wandered into Len’s cell in solitary. Hell, even before Lewis resurfaced.

Barry was always different. Always… _special_. Always good in a way that Len wanted to touch and corrupt and treasure and keep safe. Barry was just… _Barry _.__ And Len couldn’t get enough.

Barry was smiling in a way that made the bags nearly unnoticeable by the time Len was escorted away. He couldn’t help but grin at lifting the speedster's spirits.

A grin that quickly faded when another inmate approached him.

“You’ve been talking to that pig a lot lately, Snart.” He mumbled as he fell into step with Len.

“Please.” Len rolled his eyes. “Doc Allen was around for awhile. Makes sense he would send his kid to keep tabs on old friends.”

The idiot doesn’t buy it. Of course he doesn’t. Len never dealt lessons as…. _final_ and terrifying as Lewis had. The play he made earned the respect of the old dogs and un-blooded fish. Those in the middle clearly weren’t yet convinced.

“Sure, Snart. Whatever you say.” The cheery way the inmate agrees with him spells only trouble. Len keeps and eye out after that. Ensures no one holds any misconceptions that Snart is snitching for the CCPD through some lowly CSI.

Len can’t find any trouble brewing. But there are groups that he refuses to get too deep with. They could be harboring all sorts of ill-contempt for him. The White Supremacists, for one. Tried to recruit him all throughout his early years. Easy enough to fend them off as soon as he revealed what color his mother was. As soon as he told them he was raised by a Latino woman who gifted him with his sister. Of how trash his white father was, and how Len sneered at all racist bastards like him.

The newer members would eye him as potential. But they wouldn’t approach. Would have been warned off by the ones who have been around for awhile, and knew of Len’s distaste for them. Len made a point to avoid them as well. After all, he would hate to have time added on for beating some ignorant ass because they made a crass and bigoted remark that caused Len to loose his _cool_.

So they could be planning something against Len. Could be waiting to strike. But Len wasn’t sure, and Len wasn’t going to ask. He kept an eye on them, and asked the right people to keep him informed if anything changed.

The families and gangs were other groups to look out for. He had made his way around them in his younger years. Served and betrayed them all in equal measure. Always with Mick by his side. Most always because of something Lewis had done that either trickled down to Len, or that Len was making a point of going to the opposite party that Lewis was serving.

It never ended well, but it never ended up with Len dead either. Without Mick though….Len was essentially alone. A loneliness already proven by the lack of action on his behalf when he was attacked multiple times when he first came here again.

He had respect now. Had a decent amount of fear backing his image once more. But Len wasn’t sure if it would be enough. And he wasn’t sure if he could take the steps necessary to ensure his safety until the transfer.

But he couldn’t turn Barry away either. Barry just _settled_ something inside of Len that he couldn’t explain. So he would keep seeing Barry. And he would keep and eye out. And he would do his best to prepare in case shit hit the fan.

Barry looked much better the next week. They didn’t even delve into Flash business. Barry complained about work, and Len complained about prison life in equal measure. They traded funny stories and experiences. They even delved into describing their perfect meal, when Barry asked what Len would get first once he was out.

They talked about life and work (prison) and friends (acquaintances) and even __movies.__

Got into a heated argument over the new direction of Star Wars. Discussed Game of Thrones, comparing books to the show. Delved into comedies and guilty shows they watched from time to time.

Barry even updated him on Lisa. Len was thrilled to hear about his sister from someone other than Mick. Lisa was too much like Len, after all. Would try to _protect_ him by leaving out any details he might worry over. So it was a relief to hear she was still doing well from a trusted source.

He didn’t think about it too much. Of how much he had grown to _trust_ Barry. He shouldn’t, after all. They still played for different sides. Would still face off on their battlefields. But here and now, Len could admit to being almost _friends_ with Barry. And Len didn’t do _friends _.__

He did allies. He did family with Lisa. And partners with Mick. But friends…Len had never mastered those. So it was with surprise that Len realized Barry could even be described as one. Much less that Len felt _lighter_ at the thought of thinking of Barry as such.

The turmoil over reconciling those thoughts with how he was always taught to survive is what made him sloppy. What made him miss the look that same inmate gave him as he was led away from his time with Barry. What made him complacent scrubbing toilets once again that evening.

The bitch who had eyed him brought friends. One even have a screwdriver for a weapon. They weren’t high on the pecking order at all. Didn’t have powerful friends. Didn’t have a real place to _belong._

Probably trying to make a name for themselves. Maybe even scared Len was actually _spying_ on them all. Didn’t matter in the end. Didn’t change the fact that they jumped Len.

His reflexes had been honed over a lifetime of beatings. That, coupled with his recent daily workouts, provided all the edge he needed.

Len wound up with a black eye and cracked ribs. The other three men ended up with a trip to the infirmary. The one with the screwdriver left with it sticking out of his gut.

Len was seething and aching and satisfied all at once. Thankfully, one of the less-biased guards found them. Didn’t write Len off as the instigator like the other had. Told a fair recount of the events. Even shortened Len’s shit detail at the end of the day.

It could have been much, much worse. Somehow, the attack ended up working in Len’s favor. It showed that, even without Mick by his side, Len was still a force to be reckoned with. There were no smarts or schemes that went into defending himself this time. This time, it was his fists and kicks and strikes that propelled him to prevail over his attackers.

There were a few allies that hovered over him after that. Even with the display, he was left momentarily weak thanks to his damaged ribs. So he accepted them breathing down his throat with gritted teeth and grudging thanks. They meant well, after all. And hang-ups like _privacy_ and _personal space_ meant next-to-nothing in prison.

Still, he hated the coddling. Hated the fact that he _needed_ protection in the first place. It made breathing more difficult. Sent his palms itching for a score. And made casing the prison next to impossible.

Len didn’t exactly mind people. He just preferred to be left alone unless he sought out company. And alone time was getting harder and harder to come by.

That was why he was overjoyed to hear that the request was finally in the last stages of approval. It looked like he would be moved the next Monday. That left only one more meeting with Scarlet before he was taken off visitor privileges for the foreseeable future.

Barry seemed to hear that news as well. Along with the fact that Len was jumped once more.

He glared at the fading bruises Len still bore. Grit his teeth when Len gingerly sat down.

“Why?” He snapped, letting Len know Barry already knew _who._

Len just shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “Who knows. Prison can make people go crazy, Barry.”

“Bullshit.” Barry hissed, leaning forward. “You could have told me, you know. I would have stayed away.”

Len froze for an instant before softening. _Of course_ Barry would have asked around enough to find their motive.

“Not your fault.” Len glances to the side. “They were just looking for a reason. You might have given them one, but they would have found another. ‘Sides, I took care of myself. Even managed to leave them all breathing, per our deal and all. Although, I think it might be high time to add a self-defense clause or something for all those justified murders I will most likely commit in the future.”

“This isn’t a joke, Snart.” Barry continues to seethe below his breath. Apparently, a flippant tone wasn’t the way Len should have gone.

“You could have been _really_ hurt. Could have been _killed _.__ All because I just wanted to talk. To see how you were. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because.” Len snaps his eyes to Barry. “You would have stayed away, had you known. And this might be a shock, but I don’t have a lot of friendly faces visiting me, Barry. As far as I’m concerned, a weekly chat to lift both our spirits is worth the risk. Can’t imagine your Captain is too happy that you are still visiting me, either. You may not be facing fists for talking to me, but your job might end up on shaky grounds. And yet, that hasn’t stopped you.”

Barry and Len glare each other down until they eventually cave. Len isn’t willing to keep up the fight if Barry isn’t, after all.

“You’re okay, though. Right?” Barry asks quietly.

“I’m good.” Len smiles at him. Barry does his best to beam, however dimly, in response.

“Heard you’re finally being moved.”

“Only a few more days.” Len grins. And just like that, all tension is gone. They stumble onto easier topics. Eventually find their way back to light-hearted banter and tales of their lives. Somehow, both are grinning as Len is led away.

It will be the last visit they share. Len knows it will take months in the meta-wing to be granted this privilege again. Doesn’t matter. Len plans to already have found his way out of here long before then.

Barry catches on to that as well. Doesn’t comment, but the twinkle in his eye says he is more amused than disappointed with Len’s plans. Len still catches the hint of guilt.

Guilt for letting Len being arrested for killing his bastard of a father.

Guilt for not keeping a closer eye on Len to prevent escape.

But there is excitement there as well.

Excitement to talk without the glass between them.

Excitement to face off as enemies without worry of serious harm or casualties.

Maybe even excitement for a repeat of what happened in solitary. Only with a real bed and plentiful supplies to aide their sexual release.

“Be seeing you.” Snart can’t help but smirk in farewell.

Barry snorts, clutching the phone tight. “Looking forward to it.”

Len has a lot of time to think over the next few weeks. Not just about breaking out, although he does spend a good amount of time on that.

He thinks about Barry more often than he would care to admit. About how he felt and tasted and _moved _.__

About how he reverts back to ‘Snart’ instead of ‘Len’ when he is stressed or worried or scared or pissed.

Of how softly he says ‘Len’ when he can tell any mentions of his father’s name would either break Len or send his walls soaring up.

Of how he visited every week he was able. Of the belief Barry still has in him, despite Len’s past misdeeds.

Of how he broke into prison just to _check_ on Len. Of how he stayed when he was _worried_ Len couldn’t sleep peacefully alone.

Of how his eyes stare at Len without a hint of pity or disgust or judgement.

Of how he saved Lisa.

Of how he put himself in danger just so Len wouldn’t be alone with Lewis.

Of how _good_ Barry is.

Of how Len doesn’t deserve him.

Of how much Len _wants_ him.

There isn’t much to do in the meta-wing. Len is able to get his hands on the daily paper to keep up with current events. Greedily follows the articles Iris West writes. He already knows of her connection to the Flash. Means he can appreciate whatever insight she provides into those stories as truth instead of just speculation.

Is pleasantly surprised when he enjoys her writing style. Even appreciates stories outside the Flash. Almost wishes he dug more into her before.

Len knew he was always attracted to intelligence and challenge over any flesh or gender. Can easily see why Barry has pined after her for so long. Even finds himself wishing they could find happiness in each other, even as that thought sends his heart aching with a stab of loneliness.

Len has been alone his whole life, after all. His sister and partner were great. He wouldn’t trade them for anything. But romance has never been a staple of Len’s past. He avoided it and screwed it up in equal measure. Eventually accepted it just wasn’t in the cards for him. Accepted it, until Barry stormed into his life in a flash of lightning and stubborn lingering.

Made him _want_ and _hope_ for all sorts of things he had long ago dismissed as impossible for him. It would be dangerous. Would mean opening himself up for all kinds of _hurt _.__ Would leave him vulnerable. Would send Lisa snickering and Mick smirking when they found out. But if it worked out….Len would gain more than he ever thought he could get. Might find himself a life he always thought would be denied him.

Might even find _happiness _.__ Not the thrill of a heist. Nor the satisfaction of seeing Lisa, strong and smiling and well. Not the sense of belonging Central provided, nor the safety of having Mick trusted and at his back. But true _happiness._ A feeling Len sometimes thinks he has completely forgotten, leaving only fantasies and imaginings of better times in his past that may or may not exist.

But Barry makes him yearn for those feelings again. Makes him think he might be feeling them again. Makes them seem within reach. And that is worth any risk of heartbreak or vulnerability.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I know I'm posting this early. It's extremely late right now for me, and I have to be up in a mere few hours. But I just had a very emotional and connecting conversation with my brother earlier tonight. We both got heated, we both brought up past trauma, and we both ended up in tears by the end of that. After an emotional outpouring and sympathetic pain like that, I just couldn't sleep. I know I promised weekly updates, and posted early last week due to weekend plans. But my mind was swirling with emotions and pain and sympathy. I couldn't sleep, so you all get an update instead. As personal as this is....I myself have been through rape in my past. I was able to move past those experiences and build myself back up. My brother...has also been through that. Only, he hasn't been able to get past it. This is something I didn't know he was struggling with. The anger I feel towards those who broke his self-image is indescribable. I know I have wrote on the subject a lot in the past. Mainly because I had been through it, and knew I was able to overcome such situations, and wanted to vent and share my take on such experiences. Now...I already have the outline for this fic written. And it does include similar trauma. Trauma from the past that characters are able to overcome, just as I have. However, I'm not sure if I will change it now. I would like to leave it as-is...a testament for over-coming the worst humanity has to offer. But at the same time...I might end up changing this, depending on future conversations with my younger brother, the one person who got me through my childhood and teenage years being a bisexual growing up in a staunch Baptist home. He was always the one to keep depression away from me. The one I always pushed suicide aside for, because I knew I needed to be there for him. Now though...I'm not sure if I will be comfortable describing situations he is still struggling with that I have long since become desensitized too. If I do change this story, there might be delays in updates. If he is able to reach some level of healing and recovery, and can approve of my continued use of such a horrible situation to overcome, then it might stay in and updates will remain regular. I know this is personal. But I can't turn to friends or family, as they all know who he is and who I am. Strangers on the internet that I vent personal experiences to with a weave of fiction are all I have to turn to. And writing has always calmed my soul. I'm sorry for the long rant. Sorry if it made any of you uncomfortable. But I needed to vent, and this has always been the best outlet for me in the past.   
> If you like this story, then please kudos, subscribe, comment, or bookmark. And I do always appreciate knowing what my readers think of this work. So thank you all for your time and consumption, and I hope that you enjoy this work as much as it is a cathartic experience for me to write.


	7. Chapter 7

Len is only weeks away from setting his own jailbreak in motion, when Mark _fucking_ Mardon throws it all to shit. It’s not that Len doesn’t appreciate the jailbreak. After all, he saved Len a lot of trouble and owed favors in the end. It’s just that Len doesn’t like leaving plans unfinished. Wished he could have seen if he really was good enough to execute the jailbreak he had in mind.

It doesn’t help that Trickster Sr. was added to the roster. Nor does their crazy plan to take down the Flash. Feelings for Barry aside, it just isn’t a smart move. Mardon even cites dark, fast, and _evil_ as a reason to go after the Flash, seeing how he is still trapped under the shadow of that defeat. Len isn’t a saint. But he is _smart _.__ And a reasonable speedster who at least avoids _killing_ his opponents seems a much better alternative than the mad, god-complex speedster who enjoys playing with his victims. Even without knowing the Flash, Len would still choose him over Zoom any day.

So Len ducks out as gracefully as possible. He already let Mick and Lisa know he is safe and free once when he picked up the costume and gear. Means he is free to eventually make his way to the West household, once satisfied any possible tails have long since been left in the dust after leaving the abandoned toy factory. After all, Len still owes Barry. Beyond that, he _wants_ Barry to win. So he mixes himself some hot chocolate, and sits to wait.

Detective West is working late. Len already made the right calls to find out his current shift. That means he doesn’t have to worry about being arrested while waiting for Barry.

It’s been a little over month and a half since the last time they saw each other. Meta-wing unfortunately meant power-dampeners, which meant Barry couldn’t sneak in like when Len was in solitary. Visiting rights were also restricted, which meant he didn't even get to talk to him. Still, Len has been looking forward to seeing him again. Even displays himself comfortably sprawled to complete the aesthetic.

Call him a drama queen, but Len always loved leaving an impression. It would be a boring wait, but Len is too thrummed full of energy to truly relax. He considers snooping, if only to pass the time. Discards the notion with only a glance at his twitching fingers. He’s here to _warn_ Barry, not rob him.

It had taken work and time, but he was _better _.__ Had gone three full weeks without a panic attack. Ten nights without a nightmare. Eight days since he last stole some trinket from a guard.

He’s _better _.__ Needs to stay better. Can’t fall again. Not when he’s so close to seeing Lisa again. Can’t stand the thought of her _worrying_ about him again. Loathes that _Lewis_ was the reason he was like this. Len could always manage to forgive what had been done to him. Fucked up as it was, he somehow always believed what Lewis said about him. How he deserved it. How he just needed to learn his _lesson _.__

But _Lisa _….__ Len couldn’t forgive Lewis for what he did to her. Refused to let her see him getting fucked up over his death like this. It would feel like shitting on everything Len had done to help and guide and protect her if she saw him falling to pieces over killing their dear old dad. Made him feel dirty, like Lewis was still living in him. Like he could do to Lisa what that bastard had always done to them.

So he sits still and sips on the cocoa and waits. It doesn’t take long. Barry may be perpetually late, but this was an appointment he wasn’t prepared for.

Barry is talking to Iris when they walk in. Len wasn’t expecting her, but ultimately didn’t care. She wouldn’t arrest him, and Len would say his piece, and Barry would listen, and then Len could leave.

So Len smirks as he waits for them to notice him. The Christmas decorations, the reindeer mug, and the general season of festivities lay all the ground work he needs for his opening line.

“Ho ho ho.” He greets, clutching the mug tight and close to his lips. Barry doesn’t seem nearly as _thrilled_ to see him as he thought. The sting hurts, but he covers it up with a sip. After all, Len was clearly only a way to pass the time until _Miss West_ showed interest. Len knew this. Knew it before he even really knew Barry, thanks to his research. Doesn’t stop the pain. Doesn’t stop the ache in his chest.

“Cocoa isn’t cocoa without the mini-marshmallows, and you’re out. I checked.” He quickly sneers, setting the mug aside. After all, the Flash clearly isn’t interested in cuddling or orgasms or heart-to-hearts. The only other interaction they ever really had was a fight. Len is getting ready for another, just in case.

It’s habit by now. He’s used to being on guard. Used to being hurt by those he thought he could trust and love. Wishes it didn’t tear at him inside. Wishes the _coldness_ didn’t grab hold of his heart and bleed him dry.

But Barry is being _protective _.__ And Len knows he is the outsider here. He is the unwanted one. Just like always.

In a flash, Barry has him pinned to the fireplace. Len could think of all sorts of fun scenarios for this position. But the aggression and the firm hold send those pleasant thoughts stuttering to a halt. It’s flight or flight or freeze. And Len has never been one to freeze.

He won’t flee either. Can’t, if the firm hold on his parka is any indication. Considers fighting, feels his muscles tensing in preparation, but forces himself to give Barry a chance to talk instead.

He doesn’t say anything. Just stares at Len with an unreadable expression. Len stares back, never one to back down once he learned how to throw a punch.

The seconds tick by. Len feels his apprehension rising. Considers throwing out some bullshit line about an upgrade to the cold gun. After all, Lisa has had it for the past two months. It’s entirely plausible Len had her get some people to work on it in his absence.

Sees a flicker in Barry’s expression. Something that stutters Len’s heart and makes the threat die in his throat. Something that makes him _hope_ that everything wasn’t a mistake, and that maybe Barry might just give a damn about him.

Iris breaks the tension, cutting through it with the icy tone she takes. “What are you doing here, Snart? Trying to get thrown back in Iron Heights already?”

Len blinks a few times to break his gaze from Barry, turning his head towards her. Thankfully, Barry seems just as out-of-step as he is, slinking back to give Len some room to stand on his own.

“Read your article on the disappearing middle-class. Strong point-of-view, nice prose style.” Len falls back to the same quick drawl he adapted at the beginning. It’s easy to deflect. He wasn’t planning on Barry not being alone. Wasn’t counting on the _aggressive_ or _protective_ streak of Barry’s being aimed at him.

Needs to find his footing. Needs to gain back the upper hand. Does his best to ignore the whisper of a clamp being tightened around his chest again. He was doing _better,_ dammit. Refuses to fall back now.

“Yeah, well….who needs a Pulitzer when you have a homicidal maniac’s seal of approval?” Iris steps closer, masking any fear well. Probably doesn’t even feel any, to be honest. Not with guard-dog _Barry Allen_ on the job.

He remembers everything he liked about her from her work. Remembered every reason she was so perfect for _Barry _.__ Hates her, and hates himself a little more for it all, considering he still _likes_ her. But it keeps him grounded, and keeps him from lashing out.

“Didn’t Barry tell you? I had a rough childhood.” He can’t help the dig. It isn’t aimed at her. It’s aimed at _Barry _.__ Meant to sneer at what they shared. Remind him of what they _did_ and what they  _divulged._

If Barry so obviously doesn’t care about it, then Len certainly isn’t going to let him think he did either. Clearly, it was a mistake. For both parties.

“Everyone is this room had a rough childhood. Get over it.” Iris tosses her purse to the couch. Len feels himself bristle at the comment, walls fortifying themselves as he tenses further.

_She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know._

He repeats it like a mantra in his head, hoping to drown out the other, more treacherous voice.

_What if she does know? What if she doesn’t give a damn?_

It sounds like Lewis. Would be exactly the kind of shit he would say or think. But it isn’t true. _It isn’t true _.__ It can’t be true…

“Iris!” Barry jumps in before Len can reply. “L-Snart! Just calm down, okay? Both of you!”

Iris is glaring at Barry, and Len himself feels confusion growing.

Barry sighs and shakes his head. “Let’s just all take a breath, okay? Iris, play nice. And Snart-” Barry turns to look at him, expressions still filtering through emotions too fast to read. “-Just sit tight. You can have this back when we’re done here.”

Lightning fizzles through the room before disappearing. Barry is gone. And the familiar weight being absent from his thigh let’s Len know his cold gun disappeared with him.

Barry took his weapon. Barry took his _weapon _.__ Len feels his breath hitch and his eyes widen in panic.

It would be fine. Should have been fine, if Barry had been alone and agreeable. But he wasn’t. He was probably angry. Hostile.  _Protective._ And he took Len’s only form of defense.

Len has never truly been scared of Barry. Not since he found out who was underneath the mask. Maybe he still isn’t. But the panic coursing through him isn’t listening to reason. And the vice clamping down on his lungs doesn’t give a damn either.

A touch on his shoulder sends him flinching back. He didn’t expect it. Lost track of his surroundings. His vision was narrowing in a hazy, black tunnel. But he can make out Iris West’s face. Notes the surprise. Wonders how long she was trying to get his attention.

Hesitantly, she reaches out once more. The next jerk he makes is enough to knock a picture frame off the mantle.

It’s too much. He can’t breathe. He can’t _breathe _.__ Has to get away. Has to be alone. Needs to keep quiet. Needs to be _silent._ It always ends up worse for him if he makes noise.

Can’t remember stumbling past her. Doesn’t hear her cries of protest or alarm. His blood is thumping in his ears, and his breathing is stilted and ragged.

The hall bathroom provides the nearest sanctuary with a lock on the door. It’s small, yet clean. Small mercies, Len registers, as he sinks to the floor.

He keeps his back to the door and lets his head fall between his knees. Just count his breaths. Just control the flow of oxygen. Just calm down. He just needs to calm down.

Time always seems to loose meaning when he is like this. Usually, he can keep track down to the second. Any mistake in timing could mean the difference between safety and the crack of a belt. A belt that turned into bottles and misused police batons over the years.

Meant the difference between a clean break or jail. Meant the difference between staring down the barrel of the gun or being the one pulling the trigger.

Meant _survival _.__ But it was gone now, along with his composure. Tears built up hotly in his eyes. Rationally, he knew he was still breathing. Didn’t feel like it. Felt like he was _dying _.__ Like he was nine and alone and hurting beneath his father’s fists again.

Felt _wrong_ and felt familiar enough to let him know how _fucked up_ he still was. How fucked up he would always be.

Distantly, as his heart rate struggles to slow, he recognizes the noises. The pounding on the door. The pleas for him to open up. The silence when it becomes clear he can’t yet respond.

Len curls further into himself. This wasn’t part of the plan. He wasn’t supposed to break. Wasn’t supposed to show more _weakness_ when Barry had already seen too much.

It’s almost a comfort that Len figures Barry finally got Iris. He deserves her, after all. No doubt is glad he won’t have to waste any more time getting his rocks off with someone like _Len _.__

Sneers at himself. At the situation. At how fast it all went to shit.

Wishes he could be better. Wishes he never came. Wishes Mardon never broke him out. Len wishes for a lot, but knows none of it matters. What’s done is done. All that’s left is to face the music.

The silence beyond the door is telling. Len sighs as he stands. His chest is sore and breathing still seems forced. But he is well enough to find composure. Runs the tap and splashes water on his face in a hope to speed the process up.

Stares at his reflection in the mirror, and does his best not to sneer in contempt. He doesn’t succeed.

Thankfully, no one is waiting by the door when Len finally finds the courage to leave the safety of the bathroom.

A quick glance at the clock tells him twenty minutes have passed. That still gives him two hours and some change before Detective West even gets off his shift.

Barry and Iris wait for him, sitting huddled in conversation on the sofa. From their matching expressions of _sympathy _,__ Len would have bet money on Barry having talked to Iris about some of Len’s past, and similar _breaking_ he knew Len had gone through recently.

“Len-” Barry stands up, smart enough not to rush him. Len just holds his hand up to halt him.

“Mardon broke me and the Trickster out to kill you. I won’t be helping them. Consider this your warning. They should be attacking sometime within the week.”

The foster siblings blink at him for a moment. It’s clear that wasn’t what they were expecting him to say.

“O-okay. Thanks, Len. But…” Barry sighs and scrubs a hand through his hair. “…but how are you, Len? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

Len can feel his pulse quicken once more. Knows what Barry is about to address. Knows he can’t deny it. And knows he has an audience as his glance flickers towards Iris.

“You’re a speedster with the powers of a _god _,__ Barry. Probably the most powerful meta out there, if we are being honest. And I’m just a human. A human with a fancy gun that gives me a _chance _.__ And you took that gun, Barry. You took my only defense. What did you expect would happen?”

Barry hangs his head and shifts his eyes to glance at Iris as well. “I’m really sorry, Len. I didn’t think. Just….when I walked in and you were here…I felt too much. Relieved that you were here and safe. Pissed that you skipped out on your sentence and put a price on your head again. Thankful that you came to me. Frustrated that you broke into my home. Just…I felt a lot. And I acted inappropriately. With you in your Cold gear…it felt like I had to be the Flash again. Wasn’t expecting it. Hoped you would stay and drop the pretense if I took the gun out of the equation. I even have Cisco adding upgrades I convinced him to come up with over the past few weeks. More non-lethal settings for you to use, so we can keep up the ‘game’ without threat of you breaking our deal. Just-”

Barry sighs again and steps closer. “Can we start over, Len? Please?”

Len gazes at him for a beat. Glances at Iris as well. Notes the curiosity. The lack of hostility. It sets him on edge, even as it eases his nerves.

“I said what I came to say, Scarlet. Now, give me back my gun, and you won’t have to see me again for a long time.” Len is proud he kept his voice even. Still, his resolve barely resists crumbling at the sight of Barry’s trembling lower lip.

“I don’t want you to leave, Len. I want you to _talk_ to me.”

“Tried that.” Len grits, looking away. “Ended up with me hiding in your bathroom, in case you forgot.”

“That’s on me.” Barry says it so earnestly, taking another step forward. “And it won’t happen again. I promise. Please, just-”

It’s Len’s turn to sigh. He scrubs a hand over his face and forces himself a step closer to Barry. “It was my fault too. I miscalculated. Didn’t factor in your reaction. Thought I had my shit together. Just…make sure you’re ready for whatever Mardon has planned for you. He’s not bright, but he can be smart. And he’s recruiting. All I want right now is to go home, and do my best to drink what happened tonight from my memory. Would feel a lot safer if I had my cold gun, in case Mardon doesn’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Barry somehow ups his guilty expression a notch. “It won’t be ready until tomorrow. Cisco already has it taken apart. I’m sorry.”

Len takes a few breaths to center himself. “It’s fine. I’ll call Mick. He always appreciates the opportunity to roast anyone who shouldn’t be stopping by.”

Barry looks at him head-on. “You sure you’ll be alright? You can stay here if you need to. Even take my room, seeing as I took your cold gun.”

Len shakes his head. “I’ve survived worse than Mardon, Barry. Now, can I leave or not?”

The edge makes its way back into his tone. Len hates it, but hates the feeling of being _cornered_ more. Another intense study of his face seems to bring Barry to the same conclusion.

“Yeah, we aren’t going to keep you here. The gun will be ready by tomorrow night. I’m sure you know how to get in to STAR labs to pick it up.”

Len inclines his head to both of them before heading to the door.

“Oh, and Len?” Iris calls out, surprising both Barry and Len as he stills, gripping the doorknob tightly. His name sounds foreign on her tongue, yet it is clear she is _trying _.__

“Thank you for warning us. And I’m sorry for what I said earlier. And if I did something to….make you uncomfortable.”

Len swallows thickly. He isn’t used to receiving apologies. It isn’t uncomfortable, but isn’t something he knows how to accept.

“It’s like you said.” He drawls as he opens the door. “We all had rough childhoods. Some of us just can’t _get over it._ ”

He does his best to ignore their stricken expressions. “Merry Christmas.” He mumbles, pulling the door shut behind him.

It will be a long three blocks to his bike. Another fifteen minutes to his safe house. After that, he can do his best to forget this night ever happened.

There is a bottle with his name waiting for him. Three months worth of Netflix to distract him. Mick to no doubt hover the second he calls. And a cold gun to retrieve tomorrow.

Len broke enough for one night. Now he just needs to do his best to put the pieces back together. He can worry about the rest in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this was rough. I honestly don't don't think I could have posted this if it wasn't already written. The editing alone was taxing. Onto brighter news, by brother has opened up a lot. Says it feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest, now that he has told someone. He's still struggling with it, but has finally started taking healthy actions to get the help he needs. It isn't perfect, and he isn't better. Anyone who has dealt with any sort of trauma knows it doesn't work like that. But he is taking the steps to help him move past what was done to him, just like I did back when I was in his position. The references to rape are brief in this fic, as Len's trauma is centered more around the physical abuse he endured. I'm still not sure if I will include the references to his past sexual trauma I had outlined in future chapters or not. It really will depend on how much he is still struggling once I reach that point. But support does help him, and even 'internet strangers' provide a comfort, as he has secluded himself from a lot of friends. So thank you all for all your kind words and comments. I probably won't post updates in the notes anymore, but if anyone cares to know how he is doing, just pop a question in the comments, and I'll pass on your support and love to him. :)   
> Thank you all so much for reading. Writing has always helped me, and sharing my works lift my spirit. All your comments have truly helped, and so I will continue to thank you all for that! Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and next week should be a tamer bit than this chapter. So thank you all again, and I should be posting in about a week!


	8. Chapter 8

Len sighs as he slams back his drink. It had been two weeks since his break-out. Since the ‘incident’ at the West household. He had managed to keep Lisa away and entertained, waxing poetic with tales of an upcoming diamond heist for her in the meantime. Mick has, unfortunately, been insufferably plastered to his side since he called.

It was smart to have him close by, just in case, until he got his cold gun. Might not have been worth it, thanks to all the hovering that followed.

Still, Len remained alive. Barry made it out relatively unscathed as well. And Len had his cold gun back strapped to his side.

The bonfire Len let Mick create today sent the man's libido soaring. It’s the only reason Len can now enjoy some peace and quiet, as Mick had made off with his favorite prostitute an hour ago. Saints and Sinners is exactly how he remembered. Just the right kind of cesspool to mask his identity. Cops know to avoid here. No one has been arrested at this bar in over twenty years. It may be shit, but it has great food and cheap drinks. Most importantly, Len trusts the owner and bartenders. Knows the clientele. And knows he will be as safe here as he is in his safe houses.

So Len signals for another drink, and already calculates how many more he should have, and how many more people he should touch base with, before heading home.

The ding of the bell doesn’t draw his attention. It’s the silence that follows, and the way Charlie pauses in his drying of glasses.

That means trouble. Whoever came in either doesn’t belong, or is bad enough to cause even hardened criminals to falter.

Len casually twists to glance back. The figure he sees in the door-frame turns his blood to ice in his veins. Iris fucking West just walked in.

From the way she is casing the room, he would bet money that she is looking for someone. If it’s him, then he can’t hide. Sitting at the bar leaves him exposed. Trying to leave would only draw more attention.

Thankfully, her eyes latch onto another. Fearlessly, she makes her way over to talk to Wilson.

Len scowls as he follows her movements. Wilson is a pig with no honor. Just as soon to shoot you as he is to talk. Not known for being kind to women. Not known for being kind to anyone, really.

Sighing, Len signals Charlie to switch from vodka to water. Iris West is playing with sharks, after all. Len will need to keep a clear head if he has any interest in her making it out alive.

It sends his chest burning and lungs constricting whenever he remembers _that night._ The night he broke in front of her. The night he warned Barry.

As much as he wants to hate her for the part she played in that….he can’t. Not when he still feels the warmth of her articles helping him through weeks in the meta-wing. Not when he remembers the fearless way she faced him. Nor the grudging respect he later was able to admit he felt for her.

Not when he takes in her dark, yet bright expression. Not when he sees the intelligence and determination in her eyes. Not when he pictures how perfect she looked standing so close to Barry.

Len was always attracted to the mind over the body. To the challenge. To intelligence. The pretty and proud package Iris West wears is only icing on the cake. He can’t deny the attraction he feels for her any more than he can the similar feelings he has for Barry.

It will be the death of him, he knows. A death that grows more plausible the further into _dangerous territory_ Iris walks. Still, it’s there. And it won’t be leaving any time soon.

Trying to ignore it would be like trying to ignore the knee-jerk need to protect Lisa. It just isn’t possible. Not now. Maybe not ever.

So Len watches. And Len waits. And Len prepares. Just in case.

It’s clear that she is trying to interview him. He can see it in both their postures. Can only imagine what she is trying to get dirt on.

How she lived this long, Len will never know. But walking into the lion’s den and expecting to come out with what she wants is just stupid. Especially because he can tell she isn’t even packing any heat.

He finally snaps when Wilson grips her wrist. Shoots Charlie an apologetic look behind the bar as he powers up his cold gun. Charlie simply sighs, gesturing for anyone who doesn’t want any trouble to leave.

Both Wilson and Iris snap their heads in his direction at the noise. Len calmly sets the gun on the bar, keeping it in his grasp as he finishes his ‘drink’.

“And here I thought you knew how to behave in public, Wilson.” Len spins in his seat to face him, avoiding Iris’ sharp eyes and keeping his weapon prominently in view. “Now, is that any way to treat a lady?”

“This ain’t no lady, Snart.” Wilson growls, throwing up testosterone and bravado to cover his fear. Len merely tsks and stalks closer.

“That won’t be a hand for much longer either if you don’t let her go.”

“Seriously?” Wilson sneers, faltering in his show of confidence. “Do you have any idea what she was asking about?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Len drawls, dropping the gun to rest in his other hand as he steadies his aim. “All I know is you have five seconds before you’re in for an _chilly_  awakening.”

Wilson, smartly, snaps his hand back with a scowl. “This ain’t over.” He glares at both of them before retreating.

Len gives it another five seconds to make sure he isn’t coming back before powering down his gun. The few patrons left who took interest in the stand-off have already returned to their drinks. Len motions for two beers to be brought to him (caps still on, as always) before sliding into the booth across from Iris.

“Miss West. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Snart.” She greets, trying to subtly rub at the bruise forming on her wrist. He glances at it before finally meeting her gaze.

“You might want some ice for that.” He can’t help but smirk. Call him a nerd (Lisa certainly does), but he always enjoys living up to his persona.

“Thanks.” She dryly replies, the automatic sarcastic response out of her mouth in an instant. It takes only a second more for her to visibly collect herself and deflate, however. “Really though, thank you. You didn’t have to do that, and I’m not sure what might have happened if you didn’t step in. No one else seemed ready to, anyways.”

Len has to look away at the sincerity in her eyes. “Don’t mention it.” He grumbles, shifting in his seat. “Been itching to take him down a few pegs for years. Should see the way he leers at Lisa. Never had much patience for men like him.”

The gratitude in her eyes makes him uncomfortable. Reminds him too much of the same _hope_ and _support_ Barry so often shows him. Plastering on his best sneer, Len leans forward.

“This doesn’t make me a _hero _,__ Miss West. Simply someone who doesn’t appreciate a background of assault while he drinks, especially directed towards women.”

Iris stares him down, that stubbornness he so adores coming back to bite him. “Is this the same stunt you always pull with Barry anytime you do anything remotely good? Try and convince him you are as bad as you make yourself seem? Try and downplay you doing the right thing? Because it never works on him, and it sure as hell isn’t going to work on me.”

Len is thankful that the arrival of their beers keeps him from having to respond. Honestly, he isn’t sure what to say to that.

Iris looks surprised at first, mouth opening to protest she didn’t order anything. One glance at Len sets her at ease, however.

Reaching across, Len deftly twists the top off her bottle before doing the same to his own. He sees her calculating glance. Knows she appreciates the bottle being opened in front of her just as he does. She may have never been burned with drugs in her drink like Len was. But it was still a threat she was no doubt aware of. And his consideration, just as his act of stepping in, hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Thanks. I think I need a beer right about now. Wilson was…not what I expected from a potential contact. Should have done more research.”

Len snorts, raising his drink and taking a healthy swig. Iris follows suit, matching him swallow for swallow. It would be impressive, if Len wasn’t already impressed by her.

“What story were you after anyways?” He can’t help but ask, curiosity over what dragged her to this cesspool flaring to life.

“Mob ties to the Mayors office.” She answers, confidently and easily.

Even though Len knows they are far enough away to avoid prying ears, he can’t help but glance around.

He whistles, raising his eyebrow for effect. “Talk like that in here…no wonder he got hostile. You really have no sense of self-preservation, do you?”

Iris seems to bristle at the comment. Len leans forward and lowers his tone before she can reply. “Let me explain something to you. Criminals who know anything about _that_ are working for the very mob you are trying to expose the connections of. And anyone working for the mob knows what fate awaits them if they _talk _.__ No matter how scary or intimidating you try to be, or even _are_ …loss of limbs and loved ones will always be scarier. And that’s the type of punishment the mob likes to deal out to those who betray them. Word of advice: drop it. For your own health, at the very least.”

Iris considers him for a moment before smiling. “Barry was right. There is good in you.”

“Please.” Len snorts, drinking some more. “If you die anywhere within my vicinity, Scarlet will no doubt blame me. Just looking out for my own interests, nothing more.”

It’s clear Iris doesn’t buy it. But Len doesn’t have to sit here and listen all about the ‘good’ he supposedly has. Not without the chance of _something more_ Barry might have had on the table, once upon a time. For all the interest Iris has in her gaze, Len doubts she would ever stoop low enough to act on it with _him _.__ Especially not now that her and Barry are an _item._

“Goodbye, Miss West.” He stands, throwing a bill on the table to cover their drinks. His beer is still half-full, but that doesn’t matter anymore. He just needs to leave before he says or does something he might regret.

Iris calls after him as he leaves, but doesn’t try to stop him. Seems she learned her lesson on touching him after how he reacted the last time.

He makes it out unscathed and unfollowed. Pauses to take a deep breath of the evening air before making the short trek to his house. It was close enough to walk, and he had been planning on getting too drunk to drive home.

While he might not have gotten drunk, a liquor store awaits him on his path. It takes only a second of contemplation to walk past. Lewis always drowned his problems. And the fun night of forgetting his life he had planned was complicated the second Iris West walked into the bar.

It’s early, but Len doesn’t really care. Throws on a show for background noise before diving into making dinner. Whatever his faults or issues, Len could always loose himself in cooking. It was calming. It required attention and skill. It was what he turned to when he craved the bottle.

He wasn’t like _Lewis_. And Lisa always loved what he made. It was a tell. He knew it, and so did she. Didn’t ever stop him from inviting her over. If she was in town, he would probably do just that, even with all the questions it would have brought.

Still, at least he will end up with delicious food for his trouble. Maybe even give Lisa a call, just to check in later. She was always hounding him about their ‘sibling time’. For however much he grumbled about it, he always enjoyed spending time with her, or even just talking to her over the phone.

It wouldn’t numb him like alcohol. Wouldn’t make him forget. But it would distract. And with Iris West added to the mix of confusion Barry Allen had become….Len needed a distraction.

Maybe he would plan that diamond heist after all. Lisa always loved something shiny and sparkling to add to her image. It could be bonding time. Just two siblings, going after a score, and executing the perfect heist. She wouldn’t mind coming back to town for something like that. Might even keep her from asking questions. Might even distract Len from his spiraling thoughts.

It would sooth his itching hands, for sure. And his heists always had an undertone of ‘fuck you’ directed at Lewis. After all, his old man could never pull them off as well as Len could. Would do wonders for his nightmares. Might even quell the panic attacks that have still been plaguing him off and on.

Most importantly, it might be enough to get Barry, and by proxy Iris, to back off and drop it already. They clearly weren’t interested. Not in who Len really was, behind the rose-tinted goggles they liked to paint him with. Not in what Len wanted with _them _.__ Distance would be good. Would give them space to be the happy couple they so clearly were. Would give Len space to wallow and move on in peace.

Lisa might even set him up with someone. God knows she tried often enough. Might even work this time. Len never had any faith in it ending well. Her track record with men was abysmal. Her record for setting Len up even worse. Still, she was his Baby Sister. He would always give her the benefit of the doubt. And if he got a good lay out of it…then everyone won as far as he was concerned.

So Len sent her a text to see if she would be free to talk later, and set his phone aside. The stir fry he decided on was easy, and a good way to clean out the fridge. Mick might even be back in time to have a plate. Then again, he might stick around for a second round with his girl. Either way, Len made plenty. It soothed his mind, after all. And any left-overs could always be saved for later.

XXX

“Hey!” Iris greeted Barry as he came home. Barry smiled at her, flashing to the kitchen to fix a quick plate from the food Iris left out for him, before joining her on the couch. “Hey yourself.” He kissed her quickly before diving in to devour his dinner.

“How’d today go? Did your lead pan out?” Barry asked, a mouthful of food only slightly muffling his words.

Iris’ bright expression fell at his question. “Yeah, about that….”

Barry stopped chewing, expression morphing into concern. “Iris-”

“I’m fine.” She cut him off, chuckling as her nerves took hold. “Thanks to a certain someone. I thought I got it before. You and Snart, I mean. Turns out, I had no idea how charming he can be when be pretends to be nothing more than a _bad boy_.”

Barry’s brow furrows in confusion, but he turns to her to show he is listening. She takes a breath. Barry had told her, after all, weeks and weeks ago when they finally decide to explore the potential _something_ they had. It was well after Patty. Iris had been the one to sooth Barry after their break and her moving away. It was also three weeks after Snart had been moved to the meta-wing. Iris didn’t think it would have any impact on _them _.__ Didn’t even know it had an impact on Barry. After all, Barry told her almost everything. She thought Patty would be the only one still leaving half-a-foot in their budding relationship. So it was a shock at the time when she found out he had slept with someone weeks ago that she was just now hearing about.

Barry was thrilled when Iris admitted that she felt something more for him. That, despite the awkward past of being raised together from pre-teen to adult, she finally felt ready to explore those feelings with him. Barry couldn’t stop grinning. Truthfully, Iris couldn’t either. It wasn’t until they gently kissed and came up with plans for a first date that his smile faltered.

_Iris. I-I have to tell you something._

_What is it, Bear? You know you can tell me anything._

So Barry told her. About his visits to the prison, which Iris already knew of. About his visits at night, which Iris didn’t.

Barry didn’t touch much on what Len was going through. Just that he was hurting, and Barry wanted to be there for him. How Len was still struggling after the death of his father. Struggling, despite how horrible the man was. Maybe even struggling _more,_ because Len was the one to pull the trigger.

How connected Barry felt to him. How Len even started to open up. Skipped the details, but admitted they slept together. And that Barry wouldn’t be opposed to doing so again.

Iris was shocked at first. Couldn’t reconcile Barry’s feelings for _Len_ with everything she knew about his past romantic interests.

It wasn’t because he was a man. Barry had come out as liking both girls and guys in their senior year of high school. He never wanted to put a label on it, and so Iris and Joe didn’t try to force one on him.

Barry always insisted that love was just love. Didn’t matter the gender or (later on) gender identity of who caught his interest. Didn’t want to be shoved in a box. Rather, he wanted to be free to grow and change and learn and explore as you do in every other aspect of life.

So they didn’t question it, and later, Iris would come out herself. She knew she had nothing to fear. Not after how accepting their close-knit group of family and friends had been for Barry. So two years later, Iris introduced her family to Janice.

It was short-lived. More of Iris exploring if she could have feelings for and enjoy being with someone who lacked the same genitals of her past paramours. In the end, Iris was more than pleased to grow into her appreciation for the female form, moving from fantasy and speculation to physicality. When Janice and her split a few months later, there were no hard feelings. They both simply wanted things the other couldn’t provide. They even kept in touch over the years. Not close friends, but near enough to catch up with each other every now and then.

There were a few more failed partners after that. More unrequited crushes, both male and female. Then there was Eddie, and Iris had thought he would be it for her. She struggled after he was gone. Still struggled, if she was being honest. But his absence showed her something she should have seen a long time ago. When it felt like Iris had no one left and would be alone….one person was still there for her.

Not Joe. Joe would always be there for her, obviously. But that wasn’t the type of relationship she was looking to…not replace. No one could replace Eddie. But she was looking for the _next chapter_. For someone _new_ to grow and change and learn with. And Barry was still there, just as he had always been.

It stung, hearing how he was maybe about to start something new with someone else, so, _so_ close to her starting something new as well with him. Still, Iris had never doubted Barry’s love for her. She wouldn’t start now.

That led to one particular conversation on their first date. A Three List. Namely, three people who were pre-approved for the other to seek out without consequence, judgement, or impact on Iris’ and Barry’s relationship.

It was no surprise when Barry listed Leonard Snart. The other two names were celebrities Barry had long been crushing on, showing how his first choice was likely his _only_ choice for a plausible second partner.

Iris only had one caveat. If Barry did pursue Snart, and if anything happened, Iris wanted to know about it. She didn’t want Barry sneaking around or lying to her. Permission or not; those were relationship-killing habits. Barry agreed, and held her to the same standard for her own list.

Oliver Queen was on it. More a jibe at Barry than anything, seeing how Iris knew things would never work out between her and the more-serious vigilante in the long run.

Eddie made the list as well. Or rather… _any_ Eddie Thawne. After all, the multi-verse was apparently real. Barry’s sad smile showed that he would never stand in the way of her chasing after any hint of her past fiance. They both knew she would still be with him, with _her_ version of him, if he were still here.

She tacked on a celebrity just to round it out. Emma Watson had been her first true girl-crush after all. If any celebrity deserved a spot on her list, then she definitely did.

So Iris knew about Barry and Len. Knew even more after his breakdown when he came to warn them. Iris had been so angry at first. This thing with Barry was still so new….and then _Len_ was there. It was one thing to agree to the possibility of Barry seeking him in the distant future, once Barry and Iris were already well established.

It was another thing for him to show back up when Barry and Iris hadn’t even _slept_ together yet, flashing around his charming smirks and sexy drawls, when Iris knew he still had _years_ left on his sentence, as was thinking it would have still been _months_ before he tried a jail-break. So she was pissed, and she lashed out, and even bristled when Barry stepped between them.

She knew why he left. It wasn’t just to get the cold gun back to STAR labs for upgrades. It wasn’t just to strip away the persona Snart was hiding behind. It was to leave the two of them alone fore just a few minutes. No doubt Barry’s way of trying to let Iris catch a glimpse of the man that had drawn Barry in. The man behind _Captain Cold_ and all his crimes. The man with a shit dad. The man who would do anything for his sister.

Things went south the second Barry left. Iris had huffed and sighed and rolled her eyes. Cracked a joke about Barry never thinking before running off. Finally looked, really _looked _,__ at the other man when he didn’t respond.

Snart was tense. His fingers clenched at his empty holster, wide-eyes staring at the lack of his weapon. His breathing had picked up enough to cause concern. Barry had been through enough panic attacks growing up for Iris to recognize the signs.

Tried calling to Snart. To get his attention, hopefully help him slow his breathing. When that didn’t work, she reached a touch to his shoulder. When Barry couldn’t be reached by sound, touch always seemed to draw his attention.

He may startle at first, just as Snart had. But he never flinched away from the grounding comfort of another’s touch the way Snart did. It was as the picture frame clattered to the ground that Iris realized she had most likely just made things so much _worse_.

He was already well on his way to the bathroom by the time Iris reacted. He remained locked behind the door and deaf to her pleas until Barry returned.

The crestfallen and agonized look Barry wore after taking in the situation showed just how badly the two of them messed up. They may have had no ill-intentions, but their actions each factored into causing this.

When Len continued to ignore Barry pleading for him to come out, they eventually resigned themselves to waiting and letting the other man work his way out of this himself. Any more interference on their part, even with the intent of helping, might only make it worse for him.

So they waited. And Iris questioned. And Barry talked.

Told her a bit more about what Len had gone through in prison. About the nightmare that led to their passionate release. Of what it was like when Barry worked with Len and Lewis. How the man talked down to his son. How Len shied away from his touch.

Went on about what little Barry had learned of his past. All of it through his own research and the little Lisa shared. Len was even more tight-lipped on the subject than his sister. Despite his hatred and fear of the man, Len still _grieved_ him.

Not in the way Barry did his mother. Nor the loss of his father to prison. But it was still grief, and Len still regressed, and had spent weeks finding himself again after that.

The more Iris heard, the more she _understood _.__ Didn’t share that fact with Len. He seemed like the type to have the opposite effect that acceptance usually brought out. Spent his whole life shielding and protecting himself. Being told he didn’t need to do that in front of someone would only slam his walls up higher.

So she bit her tongue, apologized when she could no longer take it, and watched with heartbreak filling her chest as he left.

She could admit that he was attractive. That there was more to him than she thought. More _good_ than she ever believed a criminal like him could possess. Could maybe even admit that she was attracted to him.

She just didn’t know how _powerful_ his draw could be until today. So she told Barry. Described the contact she had gone seeking out. Some of the vile things he said to her. The bruising grip he snatched up her wrist in.

How Len stepped in. How he ran the man out. How he even stayed and shared a beer with her to make sure she was fine afterwards.

Went over how he deflected it all. How he hid behind self-interest and a general distaste for _pigs_ like Wilson. How much he shied away from her gratitude. How quickly he fled from her when Iris was about to press on his bullshit.

Barry understood it all. Of course he did. After all, he had seem the same behavior often enough. Had seen the hints behind the icy walls Len hides behind.

They talked for awhile after that. About Len. About each other. About how their mutual attraction, maybe even _affection,_ for him might impact their relationship.

Iris dropped Oliver from her Three List. Barry grinned widely when she replaced him with a certain frosty villain they both knew.

His was the only name their Lists now shared. They still weren’t sure what that might mean. Didn’t even know if Len was attracted to Iris. Didn’t know if Len wanted more from Barry than just sex. Didn’t know if he would even be open to a relationship with either of them, much less both of them.

But they hoped he would be. They stayed up late that night, talking and giggling as they came up with different scenarios of how he might enter their life again, mostly ending up with him winding up in their _bed_.

Delved into topics of the bedroom. Iris dug for every small, blushing and spluttering squeaked tidbit of juicy detail Barry was willing to divulge on Len’s performance. This talk quickly led to other activities.

Iris and Barry lay panting in bed much later. They were sticky and sweaty and sated. Most importantly, they were _happy _.__ Happy in each other and their relationship. Happy in the possibility for more to be added to that. For someone else to share their bond. They fell asleep in a tangle of limbs and tired smiles. They fell asleep dreaming of possibilities. They fell asleep dreaming of a third in their bed, and that was more than enough to bring those smiles back to life come morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is! Not sure if I will be available or not the rest of the weekend, so I'm posting this now. Thank you all for your amazing comments, and thank you all for reading! More smut should be coming up in about two chapters, and more plot will be developing as well! I wanted to post this video, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cvPVv8CZf84   
> It's the culmination of Len and Barry, I think. Show-tune musical, with a twist of rock thrown in. This man does disney and musical covers that are astounding!!! Great background for reading, and thought I would share with you all!


	9. Chapter 9

It was a week later before any news of Snart surfaced. Barry and Iris had been talking about him off and on ever since they had admitted to seeing the possibility of a place for him in their relationship. Unfortunately, agreeing that he might belong, and actually _finding_ him to _tell_ him, were two entirely different things.

So Cisco getting an alert for the Cold Gun was a god-send. Barry grinned widely the entire run to the abandoned warehouse Cisco directed him towards.

Barry thought it might be a robbery. Maybe even something to do with the mob. Couldn’t be anything involving Lisa. According to Cisco, she was over in Opal City at the moment. No doubt going through a criminal spree of her own, but Barry couldn’t be bothered to care. It wasn’t his city, after all. And so long as no one was hurt, he had already come to terms with accepting a little theft every now and then. Was nothing compared to some of the _bad_ Barry faced as the Flash, or even as a CSI. Was almost refreshing. And his feelings for Len certainly didn’t influence that conclusion at all. Nope. Not one bit.

So Barry was surprised when he arrived at the warehouse. Caught sight of Mick barreling away on his motorcycle as he came close. Was confused at the iced door and the lack of stolen goods, or even possibility of goods to steal.

It hit him then that this must be a safe-house. That Barry wasn’t interrupting a heist, but instead making a house-call. He grinned widely, letting his team know it was a false alarm, and that he would check in later before turning his comms off. He had come in through the back, stopping in what looked to be a kitchen. The layout was all wrong for any traditional kitchen. It looked like this room might have even been an office or large storage closet at one point in time.

There was a stand-alone oven and stove combo shoved against a wall. Instead of counters beside it, re-purposed bookshelves were placed on either side, with some sort of laminate put on top. Instead of books, the shelves held an array of cooking pots and pans and other utensils.

A fridge was in the corner, and another wall held more bookshelves. These held plates, bowls, and cups. There were some boxes full of silverware there, along with food and spices and typical pantry items.

The third wall held a deep sink, much like what you might find in a laundry room or janitors closet. Buckets full of cleaning supplies were set beside it. It also held the door Barry came through. The fourth wall held another door, no doubt leading further into the warehouse. In the center of the room was a table. It acted as both table and kitchen island it would seem. There were a few beer bottles and a half-eaten dish of what looked like spaghetti left out.

Whatever happened to make Mick leave and Len fire off his cold gun must have happened not long after at least one of them sat down to eat. Barry furrowed his brow. He didn’t see any other cars outside, but he couldn’t dismiss the possibility of there being trouble. Maybe it was the mob after all. Barry didn’t know about any other ties, connections, or hostilities Len may have had with the other families. But the Santini’s, while mostly run off, would definitely still be pissed with Len.

Mind made up, Barry quickly flashed off to case the rest of the building. He briefly checked the rooms for intruders or signs of struggle, without taking any of the decor or layout in. It was when he reached the largest room, and the one with the frozen door, that he found him.

Len was sprawled on the couch, cold gun left carelessly on the side table. The first Matrix movie was playing on the flat-screen Len had set up for this safe house. It was still only in the opening scenes, showing Len had just started playing it.

“Barry!” Len startled and rose at his appearance. Barry himself faltered at the sight. Len was unsteady on his feet, falling heavily back onto the couch. The empty bottles and half-drank fifth of jack in his hand told Barry all he needed to know.

“You’re drunk.” Barry wasn’t disappointed in the fact that Len was drinking. Nor the fact that he was drunk. It was the fact that Barry wanted to have a _real conversation_ right now. He wanted to say everything that had been bottled up. Everything that Iris seconded. But Len was drunk, and Barry wasn’t sure he was coherent enough. Was even sober enough to remember in the morning.

So Barry grinned at the sight of a drunk Len, even as he sighed at the implications it brought.

Len frowns at his accusation. He even goes so far to open his mouth and deny it. But then he considers the bottle in his hand. Then he _giggles _.__ And Barry can’t help but smile as he watches Len fall breathlessly back onto the couch.

He sprawls much like a cat seeking attention. It’s all drawn out, with long limbs and a direct view of the bulge between his spread legs.

Barry can’t help the saliva that builds up in his mouth. Can’t help the hardening of his cock.

“Like what you see, Scarlet?” Len drawls, going so far as to grip himself in his pants. “I’ve always liked what I’ve seen. Like what we’ve shared, too. Got me through more than a few nights, if I’m being honest.”

He gasps and _moans_ as he begins stroking himself. Barry feels his mouth grow dry; even if he is still drooling at the thought of getting to have his way with that hot and hard and _willing_ cock he can see the outline of.

“Y-you’re drunk.” Barry still objects. Still _has_ to object. Otherwise….otherwise they might do something they could regret. And Barry wants more than just one more night in bed with Len.

“Was sober last time.” Len pants in reply. “Wanted it then. Want it now. Want you _in_ me, Scarlet. Want to _feel_ you come.”

Barry remains rooted to the spot. He wants to resist. Knows he _should_ resist. Even as he knows how much he _wants_ Len. How much he wants to _give in._ How much he wants to _feel_ Len as well.

God, and Len is trying to shimmy out of his _pants_ now. It would be much harder to resist, if his struggle didn’t drive home just how _drunk_ he was.

Barry is at his side in a _flash_. He re-zips all the progress Len had made. “I want you, Len. I do. And if you want me too….come to dinner. Tomorrow night. Me and Iris will fix something nice at our apartment, and we can…talk. Maybe even have some _fun_ after. I want to do this _right,_ Len. And Iris wants to do it right too.”

Len just blinks up at him for a few moments. He opens and closes his mouth a handful of times before answering.

“I offer you my _ass _.__ And you offer me dinner first?”

Barry can’t help but blush at that. “I mean…we will hopefully get to that event too. Then, I mean. I just don’t want to take advantage.”

Len stares for a few more seconds before laughing. “You really are too good for me, Scarlet.” Len chuckles as Barry feels his gut clench.

Mick chooses that moment to burst in; accompanying ball of fire and all. Barry simply sighs, preparing for a fight.

Mick and Barry stand off for all of two seconds before Len bursts the tension with a single sentence.

“Flash invited me to dinner! Wants to wine and dine me before he fucks me! Him and his girl!”

Barry freezes and Mick stills. Both tilt their heads to regard Len, before centering their attention on one another again.

 _Fuck_. Barry can’t help but feel apprehension. For however well or poorly their talk was going before….Barry feels it might be a mood-killer to face off with his potential-partners best-friend the night before…well, _before _.__

This can’t possibly end well. Barry even considers flashing out of there for a moment. Somehow, he thinks Len would see him running as an even worse offense than beating Heatwave in a fair fight.

Barry regrets a lot of the choices that led him to this moment. Most importantly, he regrets not taking Len up on his offer. The way Mick is eyeing him….catching them with their pants down might have been even better.

At least then, Barry might have gotten _some_ pleasure out of this. After all…he can still remember the feel of Len’s mouth. Still remembers his movements, and the way he gripped and shuddered against Barry. Still remembers the taste of his mouth. His sweat. His _skin._

He remembers a lot, but knows there is so much more to learn. He only hopes there will still be a chance to discover the rest when all this is done.

XXX

Mick was _pissed_. Not in his usual flash of white-hot _fire_ pissed. More of the slow-simmering, days turned to _weeks_ of on-edge frustration.

Len was the fucking brains of their partnership. Always had been. Len would provide the smarts, and Mick the brawn. Mick the physical intimidation turned protection, and Len the path back to their selves.

Len had always been there when Mick strayed too far to the edge. Always brought him back. Always  _hovered_ when Mick was close to breaking.

Threw their whole dynamic to _shit_ when the roles were reversed. Mick had inklings of shit being wrong. Len’s responses in prison were so out of character that even _Lisa_ noticed. _Lisa _.__ The same _Lisa_ that Len always kept in the dark when he was _struggling_.

But she was worried, which meant Mick couldn’t ignore his own misgivings. But he still stayed out of it. Still followed Len’s words. Still waited as told.

Lisa was pissed. Insisted they should still break him out. Mick sided with Len. Would do them no good for all three to end up in prison at once.

So Mick waited. And Mick drank. And Mick _burned_ when his mind refused to turn off. And Mick grinned when he finally received the text letting him know Len was free once more.

The bonfire he lit in celebration was interrupted half-way through. Len may be free, but he had lost his weapon. Only for the moment, and he still had his handguns.

If not for the threat of the Santini’s, or his little jail-break _pals,_ Len might not have even texted him. But Mick was there when they ran the Santini's out. He knew the hate they harbored. Knew how they had been trying to inch back in during Len’s absence on the streets.

So Mick abandoned his fire and showed as the faithful guard-dog so many saw him as. He was more than that. He knew that. Len knew that. Even Lisa knew. But no one else needed to _know_. And so no one else did. It had worked in their favor enough in the past to continue the facade.

Unfortunately, no one burned that night. But Len was twitchy in a way Mick hadn’t seen in years. Meant he kept a closer eye. Meant he awoke the instant screams filled their safe-house.

Nightmare’s weren’t new to either of them. Both had shit in their past that haunted them. Both helped the other, even as they avoided asking questions.

So Mick thought nothing of the nightmare. Nor even the one that made it’s presence known the following night. Or the night after. Or the night after….

No! At night four of interrupted sleep, Mick knew something was _wrong._ It wasn’t just the nightmares. It was the twitchy fingers. The fact that Len couldn’t walk into a room without picking something up. Fiddled with it for a moment, before setting it elsewhere. Then he picked something else up. Then the process repeated. Again and again, until it drove Mick _mad._

Len hadn’t been this bad since they were both kids. So Mick assumed the role Len always had. He hovered. He watched. He helped to keep the other man from _breaking_ where he could.

Drove them both up the wall. Always had, even when Len was the one playing babysitter to Mick’s more destructive habits. The fact that Len was the one in trouble this time meant no difference for how on-edge they ended up around each other.

The fire Len convinced Mick to set was amazing. His cock was throbbing with interest all night. Spent itself and _himself_ more than a few times. Mick loved his ladies. Loved to make them come undone with pleasure. Meant they were all the more _wet_ and _willing_ when his cock finally rejoined the pleasure.

So Mick was more than satisfied when he came home the next morning. Len, somehow, was even pissier than when Mick left.

The next week was torture. Mick honestly didn’t know how Len did it for all those years when he helped Mick through similar moods.

By weeks end, he was _done_. Suggested Len do what Mick always ended up doing. If he wouldn’t get laid, then he would at least get drunk.

Len wasn’t one to get drunk. He drank, sure. Did it often, in fact. But he wasn’t one to get well and truly _drunk_ often. Too many shitty memories, no doubt.

But Mick forgot how Len was drunk. He was one of those annoying, hyper-active drunks. Or he was a moody drunk. Or, even _worse,_ a bi-polar mix of the two.

So Len had gotten shit drunk on Mick's advice, and Mick ended up even more annoyed, and that somehow brought them to each others throats.

They had argued. They had yelled. And Mick left in a huff, while Len sealed his departure with a blast of ice to the door.

That was fine with Mick. He needed space of his own, after all. Len could drown in his own puke for all Mick cared right now.

But then he saw the flash of lightning, and for however much Len had drank that day, Mick was still horribly stone-cold sober. So he knew what that lightning meant. Rather, he knew _who_ it meant.

And Mick would be damned if a drunken Len faced off against the Flash on his own. Not when Mick was around.

So it was with a sigh that he turned around. Headed right back towards the dreaded safe-house he had fled. The door took a second to melt. Considered the down-sides just barging in. But Mick was too pissed and strung-out himself to resist.

So the door went up in a magnificent show of flames. It took only one kick to throw it open and step through. He had his weapon ready. Expected to see a fight. Maybe even the aftermath of one.

Wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted him. Of the Flash, still holding Len’s zipper, as they were both rock-hard in their clothes.

Of _course_ , Len would have to open up his mouth and make it _worse_.

“Flash invited me to dinner! Wants to wine and dine me before he fucks me! Him and his girl!”

Mick isn’t sure who he wants to burn first. Who would make a more satisfying pillar of flames. Whose demise would ease the pounding in his head more.

They stare off for what seems an eternity. It is when Len wriggles and goes to grab his own cock that Mick has had enough.

“Flash. With me.” He grunts, lowering his weapon and stomping from the room. It would seem hyper-active drunk Snart has escalated into a hyper _-horny_ drunk Snart. Seeing him naked, showering or shitting in prison, was enough. Mick had no interest in seeing his partner getting himself off as well.

The Flash followed easily enough. Mick absently noted that Len hadn’t finished his dinner. Bastard could never remember to eat when he was drinking like that. Always meant his empty stomach got him drunker faster.

Mick simply sighed and angrily scraped the food into the trash, before dumping the plate into the sink. They could deal with clean-up in the morning.

The Flash was still lingering by the door-frame when Mick popped the cap off his beer.

“Want one?” He asked, feeling it only _polite_ to offer.

“N-no thanks.” The Flash replied warily. Mick simply snorted before taking a long drag.

“So...you and Snart?” He began. The blush and averted eyes told him all he needed to know. Even if it hadn’t happened yet, it would likely happen soon. Mick felt his head throb. Snart was never good with romance, or any he chose to bed. Could never go the easy route. Could never find anyone who didn’t screw him over in the end. Always had to go for the _complicated _.__ Always had to be so damn _stubborn_.

Mick huffs and takes another swig. “I don’t give a damn what Snart does with his dangly-bits. He could go and fuck a toaster for all I care. The only thing that matters to me is how it affects him _afterwards.”_

Mick drinks some more before striding closer. “You want to _fuck_ Snart, that’s fine with me. But if you are _fucking with_ Snart in the less-fun sense of the word, then we’ll have trouble. Understand?”

The Flash looks confused enough for Mick to sigh and elaborate. “Fuck Snart all you want, Kid. Just don’t fuck him over, capiche?”

The Flash seems to understand after that. His eyes clear, and his back straightens. “I’m not… _.fucking_ with him. It’s….I do _like_ him, okay? And I….I wouldn’t do something like _that. _”__

For all they face off on the ‘battlefield', Mick can admit he respects the Flash. Already knows Len does as well.

It’s enough for him to finally holster his gun. “Alright. So, dinner? You a romance guy, Flash? Cuz it seemed like I was two seconds from seeing your hand on Snart’s cock.”

The Flash somehow is able to make his face match the color of his suit at that. “No, I-I wasn’t. It…he’s _drunk _.__ I was trying to keep him… _modest._ ” The Flash trails off, and Mick hums in approval.

“Seem like a decent guy, Flash. Might even be good for Snart. God knows you are already better than any of his previous… _.stress-relief_.”

Mick can’t bring himself to call them relationships or _partners._ Not with the way they had all fucked Lenny over in their own way.

The Flash seems to take that as a challenge. Like he has to rise above and be _better_ that all those fuckers. Like he is _insulted_ to be lumped in with those who hurt the prickly bastard.

Good; Snart could use someone like that for once. Might even get his head screwed on straight again. Might make him less _annoying_ in the coming weeks. Might mean that both Len and Mick can finally find some peace again.

“I-I can’t promise to never hurt him. Our lives….it just isn’t feasible. But I can swear to never intentionally cause him harm. Not with something like this. Not outside… _.our personas_.”

The Flash stands firm in the face of Mick’s gaze. It’s the final straw to end the interrogation. While Mick may never approve of the _complicated_ lovers Len seeks; he can say he has much fewer misgivings about the Flash. Even _believes_ him. If or when this all hits the fan; it won’t be because the Flash was actively trying to hurt Len.

“I believe you, Sparky. Now, either go get your rocks off, or get the hell outta here.” He gruffly shoos the other man out. The Flash hesitates only briefly before disappearing in a shock of lightning.

Mick considers checking back in with Len. Shoots it down when he remembers the erection Len was trying so hard to play with.

Considers texting Lisa and updating her. It would be amusing, for sure. But the incessant texts in reply would be too much right now.

So Mick simply finishes his beer. Grabs another and the half-finished bottle of Captain Morgan before secluding himself to his room.

Netflix and booze will keep him occupied for the rest of the night. Also doubles to drown out any sounds he doesn’t want to ever hear Snart making.

They can figure this shit out in the morning. For now, Mick absorbs himself into the mindless plot of whatever recommended show popped up. He drowns himself in alcohol, and fights the urge to sleep. Most importantly, he resolutely refuses to think at all about what he learned tonight.

Snart’s a big boy. He can fuck whoever he wants. Mick has never, and will never, give a _single shit_  ,so long as it doesn’t effect him. And considering their history with the Flash, Mick can only hope this might change things for the better. It will be interesting, for sure. And if things go south…well, Mick has always wanted to roast himself a hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!! I just watched Bohemian Rhapsody for the first time...and it hit me. I'm attaching a Queen song. It played on the credits, and is one of my favorites. This movie, and their songs, inspired me to post early once more. Queen has always meant a lot to me, and I always wish I could go back in time to experience all their concerts in person. So this chapter is a late tribute to the most amazing lead singer the world has ever seen: Freddie Mercury. Cheers, and enjoy the early, mid-week release.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HgzGwKwLmgM Queen-Don't Stop Me Now


	10. Chapter 10

Len hates himself more than a little when he wakes the following morning. Drinking in excess was a habit he has always tried to avoid. He did, however, make an effort to drink often. It bolstered his image, took the fear away that had lingered since childhood whenever he even smelled alcohol, relaxed him after a long day, and meant he didn’t shy away from the staple drink during business meetings with potential crew members.

So Len drank often. He just didn’t drink a _lot_ often. Could count on one hand the amount of times he got drunk during any given year. The consequences when he did drink in excess had grown over the years as well.

Hangovers had been shitty when he was younger. Hated them and complained and always swore _never again _.__

Those minor hangovers were nothing compared to what he experiences now. As his age increased, his tolerance for hangovers decreased. Headaches ended up being closer to migraines. The soreness that seemed bone-deep had increased to actual aches and pains. The once slight nausea now sent his stomach cramping in protest. His mouth was no longer dry. Now, it felt like the fucking Sahara.

To say Len was pissed and miserable would be an understatement. He wanted to blame his current mood on Mick. After all, Mick had been the one to recommend Len get shit drunk in an effort to relax and __‘_ drag that stick outta yer goddamn ass’ _.__

Still, the blame wasn’t on Mick. Len had followed his stupid plan, and now Len was paying for it. The worst thing is that his memory was spotty whenever he tried to think back on the previous night.

He is pretty sure Barry showed up at some point. Vaguely remembers trying to get off with the speedster. He doesn’t think anything happened, but his pants are on the ground, and his own cum is uncomfortably crusted on his groin.

Len groans as he hauls himself off the couch. Grimaces as he pulls the jeans back on. Stumbles into the kitchen and drinks water straight from the tap. He should eat too, but his stomach protests at just the thought of doing so right now.

So water first, then shower, and then food.

Mick finds him about an hour later. The blood-shot running through his eyes show that Len wasn’t the only one who had drank last night.

“Mick.” Len greets, hand clenching on his coffee mug.

Mick just grunts in response before pulling a beer from the fridge. Len scowls and wants to say something. But talking about their _problems_ isn’t something they do.

If Mick thinks that more alcohol is the cure to his hangover, then so be it. Hair of the dog and all that. Len will only intervene if his drinking gets truly out-of-control.

“So. You and the Flash.” Mick finally speaks, eyes latched on the coffee pot currently dripping the extra-strong swill Mick prefers.

Len scowls and glares at his mug. So Barry was there after all. Barry and _Mick _,__ apparently.

“Care to clue me in? It’s all a bit hazy for me.”

Mick does glance at him then. Whatever he sees seems to amuse him. “So it’s true. You and the Flash.”

Len continues to scowl and Mick chuckles. “Relax. He seems like a decent guy. Much better than the trash you usually bed.”

Len doesn’t have a comeback for that. It’s true, after all. Len has a horrible track record with sexual partners. Even worse with romantic ones.

“We didn’t…” Len trails off, brows furrowing in a effort to remember.

Mick shakes his head. “Not for lack of trying. Flash was a true _gentleman_ , though. Kept you from getting naked long enough for us to have a little _chat._ ”

Len narrows his eyes. “Chat?” He spits, tensing at the thought of Mick and Barry _talking _.__

Mick grins, the gleam in his eye letting Len know he is going to hate whatever comes next. “Of course we did. He invited you to dinner, after all.”

Len glares until the words hit him. Or rather, the _implications _.__

Len remembers. Len _fucking_ remembers.

“Oh shit.” His eyes widen and his cocky posture falters.

Mick simply nods knowingly. “Yep. Him and his girl, apparently. Even if he isn’t a keeper, might mean a few nights of fun at least. Not every day either of us are invited to bed not one, but _two_ attractive and decently trustworthy people. You hit the jackpot, Cold. Karma might be working in your favor, for once.”

Len continues to blanch. Barry _fucking_  Allen and Iris _fucking_  West.

Two attractive people. Two _smart_ and _strong_ and _capable_ people. Two people who already have _each other_ , and could do much better than _Len_. And yet….

“Fuck. I’m going to go, aren’t I?” Len sighs and scrubs his head.

Mick chuckles. “I’m supposed to be the dumb one, and even I wouldn’t turn down an offer like that.

“Fuck!” Len hisses, mind spiraling through plan after plan; potential risk after risk.

“That’s the idea, buddy.” Mick chortles and Len glares.

Shit. Len wasn’t prepared for this. Wasn’t expecting it. But the clock was ticking, and Len only had so long to think. Only until tonight to prepare.

Len ignores Mick’s laughter as he strides primly from the room. He needs to be alone right now. Needs to think. Needs to prepare.

After all, Mick was right. They aren’t stupid. And offers like this don’t come often (or ever) for people like them.

So Len will go. And Len will be anxious. And Len will hope it all works out. He can worry about complications afterwards.

If Barry and Iris want a good time with him, then Len won’t say no. It’s all the rest that come with such intimacies that has him tense.

He will never live up to them. They will always have differences, the age difference somehow being the least of them. And if Barry said no to sex and yes to dinner…then this is more than just a fuck.

Len was never good with simple pleasure. Even worse with _strings_ and _feelings_ involved. But Barry only does _relationships _.__

It’s a bad idea. A _horrible_ idea. But an idea Len is already thinking through. Already planning for every worst-case scenario. Already looking for the right fucking _shirt_ to wear.

 _Fuck_ Mick. _Fuck_ alcohol. Fuck every goddamn thing that led him here. Still, Len would be lying to say he wasn’t excited. Both Barry and Iris just… _did things_ for him. And if he did those same things for them….then maybe they could have some fun after all.

It was still early. There were hours yet to prepare and wait. So Len took his time. So Len showered much more thoroughly later in the afternoon. And Len would take this to his grave, but he also tried on at least five different outfits before declaring enough was enough.

It was just nearing six when Len pulled up outside the apartment. Barry didn’t leave an address, but Len didn’t need one. He knew this was where Iris lived. The same apartment Barry had been staying at lately. Only made sense to meet up here instead of at Detective West’s house.

It still took a few minutes outside the door for Len to knock. He didn’t remember being given a time. Didn’t know if he was late or early. If they even expected him.

But Barry had invited him, and six seemed a reasonable time. So Len took a deep breath and raised his fist.

It only took three raps and five seconds for the door to open. Barry grinned the instant he saw him, the quick sweep he made of the figure Len cut not going unnoticed.

“Len! Glad you could make it, please come in!”

XXX

Barry didn’t even finish his patrol. He stayed long enough at STAR labs to give his token excuses before disappearing again. Thankfully, Iris was both home and up when he arrived.

“I invited Len to dinner.” Barry blurted out when he saw her. To her credit, she simply raised her brow in response.

“Okay. When?”

Barry gulped. “Tomorrow.”

Iris pondered for only a moment before a wicked grin spread across her face.

They talked, after that. About what to prepare. About how to clean and arrange the apartment. About what music to play, and whether or not to light candles (not, as it turned out. Might be too much if they did.).

Somehow, the full story of what happened that night came to light through their conversation. Iris was doubled over in laughter, and Barry blushing up a storm as he explained Len’s drunken advances and Mick’s ‘talk’.

Overall, Barry had to admit this was a good thing. At least, it _would_ be good if Len even showed up. He was drunk, after all. That enthusiasm might not transfer over to his sober state.

Work was difficult that day. Barry had trouble focusing. Joe noticed, and tried to talk. _Singh_ even noticed, and resolutely told Barry he was there for him, but didn’t care for his love life affecting his work.

Barry had only a second where he considered asking Singh for advice. After all, he had much more romantic experience with men than Joe (that meaning, he actually _had_ romantic experience with men). A second that quickly passed, when he remembered this was his _boss _,__ and threesomes were much different than the more traditional gay relationships Singh most likely only had experience with.

So Barry stumbled through his day, and was more relieved than ever when it ended. He stopped by the store to pick up supplies before meeting Iris at home.

It was only five, and she had already started preparing. They decided to do something simple. Pork chops, potatoes, and green beans, with a nice side of red wine. Their apartment was already immaculate, but Barry still did another quick sweep as he waited for the food to cook.

Iris tried her best to ease his nerves. It would have worked better, if Barry couldn’t tell how nervous she was as well.

Barry didn’t actually give Len a time. He worried briefly what that might mean. How long they should wait before accepting he wasn’t going to show.

Not long, as it turned out. It was just past six when a knock sounded at their door. Barry and Iris stole a few seconds to simply _grin_ at each other before Barry went to answer it.

Len stood there in a slimming navy turtle-neck shirt and sinfully tight black jeans. His boots only accentuated his long, _firm_ legs all the more. He held a bottle of wine in one hand, and a small bag in the other.

Barry could already feel his mouth watering and cock twitching in interest. He grinned as he stepped back from the door.

“Len! Glad you could make it, please come in!”

Len nodded before awkwardly stepping in. “I didn’t know what you were planning, so just brought some Cabernet.”

“That’s great.” Barry grinned as he took the bottle. “We just fixed some pork chops. This looks like it’ll be better than the cheap red we had.”

Len followed him to the kitchen. He was looking around, taking in the apartment, even as his attention was still fixed on Barry.

That is, it was fixed until they entered the kitchen. “Miss West.” Len stilled as he greeted her.

“Please.” She snorted as she set the last plate on the table. “It’s Iris. Not so big on title’s like “Miss” with the people I’m trying to wine and dine.”

Len blinks a few times before turning back to Barry. “So it wasn’t a joke. Both of you. _Both_ of you want me here?”

The tinge of unease and hint of uncertainty tug uncomfortably at Barry’s heart. The frown Iris sports shows she feels the same.

“Of course. Barry wouldn’t have invited you otherwise.” Iris looks back and forth between them for a few seconds before continuing. “Look, Barry and I have already discussed this. We know what we want, and now we want to talk with you as well. A talk that will go much better over dinner, I think. So just get comfortable, and I’ll bring the food over.”

Barry grins and sits down. Len glances around before setting the bag down on the nearby bit of clear counter-space and following suite.

“What else did you bring?” Barry curiously looks over at the bag. Len coughs and looks away. Barry blinks for a moment before grinning widely. If he’s not mistaken, that’s as close as Len will ever come to _blushing _.__

“You weren’t exactly subtle about what _activities_ might follow dinner. I thought it best to come prepared.”

Iris perks up at that, setting the dish of pork down before pilfering through the bag. She stills for a moment, glancing at Len, before setting the bag aside once more. Len may not be blushing, but Iris definitely is now.

“What?” Barry feels his own curiosity blooming to life, considering just flashing over to look himself (even if everyone always tells him how rude that is). Iris shoots him a glance before grinning at Len.

“He told me about that night in prison, you know. Just left out the fact that you need XL Magnums.”

Barry is blushing and spluttering. Len simply huffs and glances away. “Please, it’s only slightly above average. Not like I have any influence over it anyways.”

Both Iris and Barry blink at that. It’s not like would have judged him over something as outside his control as _size_ (they aren't assholes). The fact that he feels the need to defend and deflect, even given he is in the bracket that usually breeds over-confidence, is _telling _.__

Iris frowns and goes to grab some more dishes. It would seem they are already sticking their feet in their mouths, and dinner hasn’t even _started _.__

They need to remember that Len is a _minefield_ of uncharted territory. Iris saw his humanity. Barry did as well. They both know there are a lot of ghosts in his past. More than they know, most likely.

The fact that Iris had never been with someone as big as that wasn’t something she needed to make a big deal over. It wasn’t the size, really. It was the fact that it was something _new _.__

Barry was comfortably average. Eddie, though thicker, had been a little shorter. It wasn’t the size that brought her pleasure. It was the _men _.__ It was the feelings and love and way they brought her _pleasure_ that made all the difference.

Women were no different. Iris would never judge someone for their breast size, just as she afforded men the same courtesy for their own physical attributes outside their control. Her excitement and curiosity just got ahead of her mouth. She would have to try and reign that in for now.

After all, Len was tense as any bowstring in his chair. It was clear he was just as, if not _more_ nervous than they were.

“Dish up.” Iris plastered on a shaky smile as she finally sat down. They all plated their food, and Len opened the bottle of wine he brought.

An awkward silence fell as they started. It seemed everyone was unsure how to get past the conversational stumble they took earlier.

“It’s delicious. Thank you, Iris.” Len complimented a few bites in. Iris grinned and took the lifeline he offered.

“Thank you! Although, Barry did most of the work. I mainly just grilled the pork chops.”

“Thank you both, then.” Len wore a strained smile, quickly taking another bite as an excuse not to continue talking.

“Glad you like it! The wine is great as well!” Barry smiled and purposefully took a large swallow.

Len snorted as Iris giggled. Just like that, the tension was broken. They eat and chat over easy subjects. The latest movie, some funny story about a lead Iris was chasing, something completely over-the-top in a nerdy way Lisa would _adore_ that Barry recounted Cisco having done recently.

Len even talks a bit about his own life. Recounts a story from his younger years, when he was still making a name for himself.

“...so the intel we got said that the money would be in the truck that night. Hit it just fine, and the plan worked perfectly. Only, it wasn’t money in the truck. Instead, it was the goods they were trading for money. An entire truck-full of Fennec Foxes being moved to supply those rich enough to afford them and bend the law.”

Barry and Iris snorted and laughed, clearly amused, bringing a fuller grin to Len’s face.

“What did you do?” Iris has to ask, attention completely enraptured by the story. Len just shrugs, casually fingering his glass as he continues.

“What else? Brought them to the nearest wildlife refuge that had space and supplies to care for them. Then we took the cages they were kept in, went back to the assholes we were stealing from, and made a point of shoving as many of their belongings into the cages as possible, before locking them all and tossing the keys in their garbage disposal.”

The laughter eventually died down. Of all the stories Len had, he was glad he picked that one. He didn’t have a lot of happy or funny material to work with from his past. He was only thankful that story had the desired effect.

It’s only as they are finishing dinner and Iris starts talking about breaking out brownies for desert that they once again grow quiet.

It’s obvious dinner is nearing it’s end. There isn’t much time left to talk about _why_ Len is here, and what will follow.

“So. It would seem that you are both…interested. And have _talked_ about it as well.”

Iris and Barry share a look before replying. Barry takes the lead, seeing that he has the most experience with Len.

He explains a Three List. Len blinks as he absorbs the information, but he isn’t one to judge. Continues to listen as Iris picks up the thread. He remembers the day she described. Of course he does. Is still surprised to hear he was added to her own List after that.

Barry explains how they talked about a third in their relationship, once they realized they were both interested in the same person. Not just in their bed, either. Of how they both felt the possibility for something so much _more_ with him. How they would be fine if he wasn’t comfortable with more than just sex. But also, how they would be willing to try for a real _relationship_ if he wanted to as well.

Len mulls it over as he savors the first bites of his chocolate ambrosia disguised as a simple brownie. A recipe he can thank Barry’s late mother for, apparently.

This is the point Len was dreading. This is the part that he always starts to screw things up. Clearing his throat and swallowing his bite, Len lays it all on the line.

“I can’t promise anything. God knows I’m shit at this. And even if I was perfect at… _feelings _,__ there are our careers to consider as well, and all the trouble that could bring. However, I can’t deny being…attracted to you both. And I’m never just attracted by looks. It’s who you are that drew me in. So it would be a lie to say I just want sex. But if that’s the only way this works between us, I wouldn’t be opposed to limiting our… _relationship_  to the bedroom for now.”

“Okay.” Iris smiles and agrees much too easily. “I’m fine with that. After all, there is still so much we don’t know about each other. The rest will come when it comes. Or it won’t. Either way, I'd just like to keep trying in the meantime, and find what works best for us.”

“I agree.” Barry smiles, first at Iris, and then Len. He even reaches out to take Len’s _hand _,__ for fucks sake, before continuing.

“We like what we’ve seen so far, Len. Would love to learn more. So we can go as fast or slow as you need, both physically and emotionally. Just tell us if we are rushing things. I want this to work. I really, really do. I’m willing to explore this if you are.”

Len meets both their eyes. He notes the honesty there. The determination. The hint of lust.

Grinning, he takes his time spearing another bite on his fork. “In that case, we better finish desert. It would seem we have a bed to move this to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thanks to Queen, you guys get two chapters this week! Be sure to listen to one of their songs in the near future as thanks (and for your own happiness, they really have a lot of amazing songs!). In the spirit of that, here is another song by them (with an appearance by David Bowie) that I often enjoy listening to!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YoDh_gHDvkk -Under Pressure  
> Quick story on why I love that song so much. When I still lived in San Diego, David Bowie passed away. A group of friends and I went out to celebrate his life, and ended up in a hooters. They were playing some pop music, but had a jukebox. So we paid to have classic rock going on all night in honor of him. This was the first song we picked to play, and a group of elderly bikers we sat across the bar from us. As soon as the song came on (having seen us pay for it), they all raised their beers to us and bobbed their heads to the music. Thanks to that (and the music itself), it will always hold a place in my heart.  
> So, first off, just WOW! Thank you all so much for the amazing feedback the last chapter received! I'm always overjoyed to hear what you think, and love that this fic is being enjoyed!  
> As for topics covered, I had to go into uncharted territory for realism in fics (something I like to do). Dick size in most fics (including a lot of my own) revolve around societal expectations and sexual desires portrayed in porn and media. However, I've been with people of many sizes. To be honest, the best sex I had was with the smallest size I was with. Not because of the physical traits, but his experience, talent, and the emotions we shared. So I wanted to address that at least a little, and go against the grain for expectations relating to performance, confidence, and size. Didn't get too in depth with it here, just wanted the little aside added. Anyways, back to happy thoughts about this fic! :)  
> For anyone who might be curious about smut in this fic, the next chapter will be completely NSFW. Seriously. It's like, and entire chapter devoted to sex, so you have been warned, and I hope you enjoy it!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Smut, Smut, and more Smut for this chapter! NSFW!!! You have been warned ;)

They don’t bother with the dishes beyond placing them in the sink to take care of later. Barry is on Len the second the plate leaves his hand. Lips are hot and malleable against his. Barry molds his body close as Len wraps one arm around his waist, bringing the other up to cradle Barry’s face.

After the initial press, it isn’t fast like Len thought it would be. It isn’t urgent. Barry is just _there _,__ slowly opening up and deepening their kiss. His cock wars with his mouth, hard and gently grinding against Len’s hip. The mix of sensations draw a quiet moan from him.

Just as fast as it started, Barry is withdrawing. Iris is quick to replace him, hand wrapping around the back of his head to draw him down into her lips.

She kisses more fiercely than Barry, and yet somehow just as tender. Her hands run against his chest and he pulls her close by her hips. Barry moves to his back, grabbing Len’s own hips and kissing at his throat.

It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s everything and nothing all at once.

“Bed.” Len gasps in the momentary break for air Iris grants him.

“Agreed.” Barry _growls_ next to his ear, sending shivers running down Len’s spine and blood rushing to his cock. They stumble slowly and surely towards their destination. Their shuffling is interrupted by kisses and tugs and changes of partner the entire way. None of them seem to mind, however, and even encourage such distractions.

Barry and Iris both ditch their shoes on the way. The boots Len wears will have to wait until he is seated. Somehow, Barry’s pants end up discarded along their path as well, along with Iris’ blouse.

Len feels only a brief moment of tension when Iris flicks on the light to illuminate the dark bedroom. He quickly relaxes, turning to take in his surroundings instead.

This was clearly Iris’ room before it was both of theirs. The lavender sheets and general well-placed decor don’t exactly scream Barry Allen. Len had seen his room at the West house, and knows how many remnants of his childhood and current interests he usually keeps around his space.

There is one poster on the wall and a single pillow with a pattern of light-sabers across it to announce Barry’s limited input thus far on the room. Len can only assume this will grow over time.

Iris distracts him by leaning against his back and wrapping her arms around his waist. “Like what you see?” She teases, stroking his stomach through the cloth.

He turns to her and can’t help but grin as he gives her a once-over. “Very much.”

He leans in to kiss her again, relishing the feeling of Barry coming up behind him like he _belongs_ there. Iris it hot and nearly bare against his front. Barry warm and solid at his back. They trap him in a cage of _pleasure_ and _comfort _,__ while their lips leave wet trails on his skin and their hands _burn_ where they grip and grasp him.

Barry tentatively rocks his erection against Len’s ass. His resounding moan is swallowed by Iris, but his hips angling back against Barry show just how on-board he is.

It has been a long time since he bottomed. Not for lack of enjoyment, no matter how past experiences made him shy away. But Connor was more than half a decade in Len’s rear-view mirror, and Barry would never take advantage as he had.

So Len reaches back to pull Barry closer, groaning as sensations flow through his body. He relishes the languid rolls of pleasure and movement running through him. Lavishes in the endorphins; up until they come to an abrupt halt.

Iris has her hands up his shirt. The touch isn’t bad. In fact, the touch is _wonderful._ Len craves that touch more than anything in the moment. It’s what follows that have him freezing.

The pause of confusion. The questions that might come. The look of disgust and revulsion he had seen so often before.

Maybe he should turn the lights back off. They don’t notice as often when the lights are off…

“Len?” Barry breaks his train of thought with the quiet hint of concern in his voice. Len shudders in response, realizing just how completely and long he froze for.

“M’fine. Just…” He sighs and pulls back, not quite leaving their gentle hold, but just far enough to look them in the eye. Barry hadn’t seen, but he had felt enough to know what was there to be revealed. Barry never mentioned it to Len afterwards, which makes him think Barry never mentioned it to Iris either. So she doesn’t know what to expect, and the uncertainty of her reaction is what has him on edge. “It’s not pretty. What’s under here.” He pinches his shirt and tugs it out before dropping it as he makes his point. “I don’t mind leaving it on, if you’d prefer.”

Barry and Iris both frown at him. It isn’t hostile. Nor is it pity. No, they frown in _concern_ and _empathy_ as he struggles to hold their gaze.

“I read your files, remember? I was there in solitary with you. There is nothing about you that you need to be ashamed of, Len. I know enough about Lewis to know what sort of marks he might have left. I know all about your past crimes, and have come to terms with them. And I… _.we_ would love it if your were comfortable enough to share all of that with us, Len. So if it makes you feel better, then you can keep it on. Just don’t feel like you need to cover yourself for our sake.”

Barry smiles softly at him, moving his hand to entwine their fingers. Iris reaches up to peck his cheek.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Iris grins. “It’s like what we said at dinner. As fast or as slow as you need, Len. We can wait if that would be better.”

Len feels a lump lodge itself in his throat. He had partners in his past that didn’t mind his scars. Some that even worshiped them, even if that made him feel just as uncomfortable as the ones who ignored them.

This doesn’t feel like that. This feels like _acknowledgement _.__ Like _acceptance _.__ Len isn’t sure how to react to that.

Words may be his strong suit in many aspects of his life, but this isn’t one of them. In this aspect, actions have always spoken louder. So Len does what he always did best, and _acted _.__

He lets go of Barry to take another half-step away. He paused with his shirt over his head, buying another precious second to take a deep breath, before pulling it fully off and taking in their reactions.

They weren’t ignoring his scars. They weren’t _disgusted _.__ They didn’t show a hint of _pity_ or _reverence _.__

Instead, they looked at him with _awe._ Not for the scars he bore. For the fact that he was willing to _share_ them with the duo.

Every inch of skin they took in seemed to draw them closer. Len didn’t see why. He was old, and growing soft from age. His skin wasn’t smooth by any stretch of the imagination. There was a swell of muscle from his recent prison stay, but it was still covered by the small amount of fat his inconsistent diet afforded him.

The scars were hideous. He knew they were. Not just for the amount, or the way they healed. It was for the way they changed as he grew, pulling skin taught and stretching with age. It was the way some puckered, and others went deep enough to puff the skin up around them.

He hated his scars. Always had, even if he had long ago accepted having them. Was used to showing them often enough, thanks to prison. Even had grown used to showing them in intimate settings like this, though it always sent a thrill of anxiety through him.

Leonard Snart hated his scars. But Barry and Iris didn’t seem to. They smiled in _thanks_ as they slowly drew Len back in.

“Just let us know if this gets to be too much, or if you want us to slow down or stop.” Iris made a point of meeting his eyes as she said this. It wasn’t until he gave a slight nod that she leaned in to nip at his neck.

“Thank you for sharing this with us.” Barry breathed as he went to work attacking the other side of his neck.

Len had to screw his eyes shut at that. He was never good with emotions. Never good with _love_ or _acceptance _.__

He craved it, for sure. Probably something to do with not getting enough of it when he was a kid. Doled it out to Lisa every chance he got. She gave it back to him as well, in her own way. They had long ago learned how to work with and around each other and their own issues.

So this all still felt so new for Len. Didn’t know what to do or say now. Couldn’t bring himself to address their words in any way.

Changed the subject instead. Sex was easier than _feeling _,__ after all.

“How exactly were you planning on doing this?”

It’s Iris who takes the reigns, pulling back with a wicked smirk. “Well, Barry told me what you wanted him to do last night. So I was thinking, if you’re fine with it, that we could 69 while Barry got you nice and ready for him.”

Len blinks at that. Didn’t expect either of them to be so forward. Though, looking back at the blunt and fearless writing style Iris so flawlessly wove, he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Grinning, Len leans in to kiss first Iris, and then Barry.

“That sounds perfect.”

There is a sudden breeze in the room, and Barry seems to teleport from their hold and to the bed. He has the bag Len brought with him in hand, already digging through it to pull out the supplies.

Len blinks and Iris giggles. “Yeah, he does stuff like that when he gets a bit over-excited.”

“Hey!” Barry protests with an adorable mock-pouting motion of his lower lip. “I’ve never heard you complain before!”

“Oh Barry.” Iris shakes her head and smiles. “There are many things I will complain about. You using your powers in the bedroom will never be one of them.”

Len grins as well, leaving Iris to crawl up the bed after Barry. “Last time, I got you off twice in about half an hour. Wonder how many times we can get you to come tonight.”

Len can _see_ the dilation of Barry’s eyes. Iris chuckles and joins them on the bed. “Our record is five.”

The cocky amusement in her voice draws him up short from where he was about to kiss Barry.

“Five?” He has to ask, just to be sure he heard right and they aren’t joking.

Barry chuckles nervously and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah. It usually takes longer after the second or third but….super-metabolism and all. Shortens my refractory period.”

“That’s not all.” Iris purrs and strokes his back. Len shivers in pleasure, even as he fights the instinct to flinch. His back is even worse than his front when it comes to his scars. The ridges and valleys leave the surrounding skin more sensitive to touch, even if there are blank patches in his nerves from all the damage.

“Just wait until you see what else he can do.” She leans in to whisper this, biting at his earlobe and and blowing at the wet skin left behind.

“Intriguing.” Len grins and turns to kiss her. “Can’t wait to see what _both_ of you have to offer.”

Barry leans forward to kiss Iris, and then Len after that. He is grinning too much for it to be a real kiss, but it works to get them back on track.

Iris goes to work on loosening Len’s boots so he can kick them off. Len strips Barry of his shirt and turns his attention to the sleek, black briefs Barry wears. The wet patch on the tented front, and the hard flesh beneath, draw him in.

He is mouthing at Barry’s erection through the cloth, relishing the drag of Barry’s short nails against his scalp. Boots successfully removed, Len reaches back blindly to grab Iris and get her to lie beside Barry.

He takes his time sitting back up, sharp eyes roving over their beautifully partially-clad bodies.

Grinning, he reaches out to run his fingertips over the soft flesh of Iris’ bare stomach and the top of her breasts.

“Beautiful.” He doesn’t usually compliment his lovers. Not after a few nights in bed, that is. Not unless they _earn_ it.

But both of these amazing people have long since earned such praise. It’s _Len_ who has to prove his worth. Len who needs to _earn_ the privilege of being in this bed.

Leaning over Barry, Len slips one hand into his underwear to play with his cock, while the other snakes around to unclasp Iris’ bra. Barry moans and bucks into his hand, and Len swoops down to suck on the ample flesh and perky nipples of Iris' freed breasts awaiting his attention.

Barry fumbles to undo Len’s pants and return the favor, while Iris focuses on arching beneath his mouth and running her hands over his head and shoulders and back.

It does take more work with two lovers, Len distantly notes. The levels of multitasking are much higher with two to please instead of one. But the outcome is worth the work. The sensation of two people pleasing him as well is only sending thrills of ecstasy thrumming through his veins.

The foreplay is drawn out. Len loves and craves every touch. Gives as well as he gets. Basks in the _connection_ that is so much more than just sex.

It isn’t love. It isn’t like books or movies or fairy-tale endings. But it is _real_ and _there_ in a way Len is unused to.

Not love. But _something _.__ Trust. Understanding. Acceptance. Lust. Empathy. Connection.

Len can feel the lump forming in his throat again. Pushes it down, along with Iris’ panties. Barry is behind him now, so Len moves to his knees and spreads his legs to give Barry access, while Iris throws her own legs over his shoulders.

Iris is wet and musky and throbbing with arousal. Len dives in, savoring every lick and suck and taste and stab of his tongue. He plays with her clit as Barry brushes light fingers over his hole. He thrusts a finger into her as Barry does the same to him.

Lets his moans flow free, knowing how pleasurable the vibrations must be for Iris. Barry strokes his thighs as he continues to finger him. Len reaches up to play with Iris’ nipples as he continues to eat her out.

“God, that’s hot.” Barry breathes behind him. Len reaches back between his legs with one hand while he continues fingering Iris with the other.

“Since you have such a lovely refractory period, how would you like for me to get you both off before we even get to the best part?”

Len can’t really look up, Iris keeping his head pinned firmly in her groin. Their moans of approval are all the permission he needs.

His own cock is throbbing in anticipation, but Len ignores it. He always loved build-up like this beforehand. Made the pleasure more intense in the end.

That, and the thrill of bringing these two beautiful individuals over the ledge under Len’s careful ministrations does all sorts of things for Len’s own pleasure (and ego, if he is being honest).

It doesn’t take long. Len imagines the sight before Barry already had him on edge. Seeing Iris shake and pant and croon in pleasure makes both their cocks twitch in interest. It only takes another two dozen quick jerks and twists of his hand before Barry follows Iris and spills his seed.

Len frowns at the wet spot left behind. Should have considered it, but was too caught up in the moment.

With the activities they still have left, the sheets will need to be washed regardless. Len deems he doesn’t regret the oversight after all.

Iris is kissing him before he can get too lost in his thoughts.

“I want you in me now.” She grins, laying back and pulling him after her.

“That can be arranged.” He smirks, detouring for another kiss before reaching for the condoms.

“I can prep you some more, if you want.” Barry hesitates as he grabs a condom of his own.

Len shakes his head. “I’m good, Scarlet. Won’t be able to last much longer if you keep playing with my ass like that.”

Iris chuckles as Len smirks and Barry grins. Len lines himself up with Iris after making sure to properly don the condom. He pushes in nice and slow, waiting until he is fully seated to readjust their positions.

His knees end up kneeling just under and on either side of her hips, while her legs are hooked over his shoulders. Gives him a perfect view and plenty of flesh withing easy stroking and gripping distance. It also happens to keep his own legs spread and ass accessible for Barry.

Len keeps himself from moving as Barry slides in. He can’t keep the groan in at the _stretch_ he feels while Barry breaches him.

His cock is enveloped in warm, wet heat. His ass spread and hot and _full_ with Barry’s throbbing member.

It’s perfect. It’s ecstasy. It’s pleasure incarnate.

It’s too much, and yet Len can’t get enough. God, why had he never done this before?

His mind stutters to a halt when Barry is fully seated. Not because of the feeling of having Barry so deep inside.

No. It’s the tingling, buzzing sensation that has him gasping and jerking in pleasure. Just as abruptly as it started, it stops.

Len pants as he comes down from _whatever the hell_ that was. Iris looks up at him smugly. “Oh, and did we mention Barry vibrates?”

Len is torn between bending down to kiss her, or twisting to reach Barry instead. Settles for growling as he thrusts sharply, dragging a gasp from Iris and erasing the smug look as her mouth drops in pleasure.

It’s different moving with two instead of one. Takes a beat for them to match their rhythm, Len thrusting forward as Barry pulls back, and vice versa.

Means every connection of flesh is so much _sharper _.__ Harder and faster and _deeper_ than Len is used to.

Bounces back from Barry to slam into Iris. Revels in the sensations surrounding him. The obscene slap of sweat-slick flesh and groans of pleasure fill the air. Their panted breaths and gasps of _yes_ or _more_ or _like that_ become static in his ears. The smell of sex is heavy in the air. The bed creaks in time with their movements.

It’s filthy and obscene and _perfect_ as they chase their pleasure. Barry occasionally _vibrates _,__ sending those tingles running straight up Len’s spine from so amazingly _deep_ inside.

It doesn’t last. Can’t last. Barry comes first, shuddering and groaning through his release. Len moans at the twitching flesh inside him, clenching around Barry to milk him until he’s spent. Barry does have to pull out, but is quick to replace the empty sensation with fingers.

Not long after that, Iris starts gasping about how close she is. It won’t be enough. Len won’t last. Not with Barry stroking his prostate and sucking at his neck.

Len pushes hard against Iris as he comes. Thrusts slowly through each and every spurt. Let’s his cock drag against her walls a few more times before pulling out.

Her pussy tastes like the latex from the condom and the heady flavor of her wet arousal after Len shuffles back to bury his face into her cunt once more. Looking up, Len can see a nice view of Barry’s bare ass as he straddles Iris’ chest. It would seem he is hard again already.

Len works Iris as she works Barry. It takes only a few minutes to bring her back to the edge. Barry pulls back when she gets close. Shifts to the side so he can watch as he continues to jerk himself off.

Iris’ thighs clamp around his ears when she comes. Len moves with her as she writhes in pleasure. Keeps flicking his tongue and swirling his fingers through her release.

Afterwards, he crawls up her body to kiss the taste of herself into her mouth, before doing the same to Barry.

“Need help with that?” Len asks huskily as he continues to nip at Barry’s lips.

“Just lie back.” Barry grins, jerking his hand even faster. Len raises his eyebrow but does as commanded.

He understands what Barry wants to do as soon as he curls forward. From his position, his come will shoot across both Len and Iris’ chests.

That’s fine by Len. He doesn’t mind the act, and they will have to shower anyways. Knows the thrill he gets from seeing his come streaking across his partner. Can only imagine what it will be like for Barry with both of them wearing his release.

Barry throws his head back as he comes, but makes sure to glance down so he is able to watch at the same time. Len runs his hand through the mess as Barry slows his hand. Reaches over to do the same to Iris, massaging her breasts a little extra in the process.

Iris smiles at him, leaning over to kiss him and Barry. It’s when Barry turns to Len that he brings his hand up.

He doesn’t ask and doesn’t force. Is simply curious to see if Barry will really do it. With a wicked grin, Barry sucks his fingers into his mouth. Licks every drop of come from Len’s hand before doing the same to his chest.

“Shit, Scarlet.” Len groans, running his hands through Barry’s hair. If Len wasn’t already spent, that would have him ready for round two.

Iris gets the same treatment once Barry deems Len thoroughly cleaned. They kiss after that, Len feeling like an intruder once more.

It’s the adoration and elation they both wear. The way they gaze so fondly at each other.

Len’s heart clenches as an ache settles deep. Len doesn’t remember ever being looked at like that. Imagines he never looked at another the same way.

Feels the sting of loneliness and rejection before shoving it down. He just had amazing sex. Endorphins are still buzzing through his brain, and they haven’t kicked him out yet.

Len can wallow later. For now, he is damn well going to enjoy the after-glow.

His brooding is interrupted when Barry drags him over. “Get in here.” He mumbles with a smile. They trade languid kisses for awhile before they slowly separate.

The loneliness isn’t gone. Len still doesn’t belong. But he can ignore it, and pretend he does have a place here for awhile longer.

Their shower isn’t big enough for three. Barry gracefully backs out to go replenish his never-ending metabolism as Iris and Len wash each other.

The sheets have even been changed by the time they get back. It takes only a few minutes for Barry to join them, clean and warm as he slips beneath the covers.

Len should leave. Shouldn’t stay, now that the deed has been done.

Barry seems to read his mind. Obstinately wraps around Len to keep him firmly in bed.

“Stop over-thinking and go to sleep, Len.” Barry grumbles as he burrows his head in Len’s neck.

Iris snorts, and Len feels the tension that had been building ease. It’s just sleep. Len can always leave in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to all you lovely readers! I have plans for this weekend, so decided to post this a little early :) Next update will be next weekend!   
> A quick side-note of elaboration that I'm not sure I'll include in the story. Connor was a past almost-boyfriend (more of a fuck-buddy). The two had been sleeping together for awhile, and Len happily topped and bottomed in equal measure with the man. The reason he is hesitant now isn't because of anything Connor did with him in bed. There was always consent every time they slept together. Only, after the last time, Connor had drugged Len in order to exchange a helpless and unconscious Len to pay off his brother's gambling debt. The fact that Len now knows, looking back, that Connor had still slept with him (both bottoming and topping) while he was planning on drugging and betraying Len afterwards had soured the whole encounter. There is a certain measure of vulnerability you display while bottoming with someone you don't fully know or trust, and Connor's betrayal had left him wary to expose himself in such a way again. It's only the fact that Len trusts Barry so much that he is willing to open himself up in such a way. This will be hinted on later in this fic, so you will see references to it later. But I'm not sure if the whole story will be explained, or if I will include a flash-back; so I left it here for my amazing readers to get the full picture. If any of you would like a fuller picture painted later in the story, then let me know and I'll see if I can work in more flash-backs or heart-to-hearts about stuff like this. :)  
> Hope you all liked the healthy helping of Smut! It was a long time coming (heh, puns-Len would be so proud), but I hope it was still satisfying despite the wait! Thank you all for reading and commenting! This fic has been incredibly fun to write, and it makes me insanely happy to know how much others enjoy it as well!


	12. Chapter 12

Len wakes to a face-full of hair. It isn’t what he is used to, but it is far from offensive. It reminds him of younger years. Of waking with Lisa in his bed as children. Of later waking with short-term lovers through his twenties. Of waking in comfort and safety.

So he clutches the warm body close and buries his head to inhale the lingering scent of flowers and aloe. The hair is soft and tickles slightly as Len breathes deeper, savoring every moment.

It isn’t until the events from the night before come back that Len tenses. It isn’t the fact that he slept with them, so much. It’s the fact that Barry’s spot at his back is _empty_ and _cold_ that has Len on alert.

“Mmm.” Iris moans, shifting her position across his chest. “I can hear your heartbeat, you know. Relax. Everything is fine. Barry’s just making breakfast.”

Len wills his body to relax as he focuses on the scent and safety around him.

“Didn’t know you were up.” Len mumbles, kissing her hair lightly before slowly sitting up.

“Just woke up.” Iris grumbles, stealing a few more precious moments of near-sleep as she curls stubbornly into his lap.

“Sorry.” Len grunts and scrubs his eyes. The room doesn’t look much different in the light of day. It’s the lack of clothes, and their previous activities, that now have him feeling on display.

“Don’t be.” Iris sighs, rubbing her face into the warmth he provides a few times more before rising as well. “Barry’s making coffee. The smell wakes me up better than any alarm I’ve ever owned.”

Len has to lift his head to smell it beyond the lovely scent of Iris. Can almost taste the hint of hazelnut in the blend Barry chose.

Hums in approval while stroking Iris’ bare shoulder. “He do this often?” Len asks casually, hoping to deflect and help Iris forget about the _tell_ Len showed upon waking.

“Oh yeah.” Iris grins and stretches up to kiss him. “Barry wakes up earlier now. Usually because he is hungry. Coffee may do nothing for him now, but don’t tell him that. The placebo effect of caffeine is still alive and well for Barry. None of us has the heart to break the news to him that he might as well be drinking water.”

Len chuckles and leans back to gaze at the ceiling. He can’t even remember how long it’s been since he spent the night willingly. Probably close to a decade, if he’s being honest. Still, he revels in every moment of waking in this foreign space for once.

Barry and Iris don’t mean him harm. Len can relax as he does in his own space; and do so with the comfort of others present.

Len can’t find his clothes as he searches the floor. Iris calms any qualms by reassuring him that Barry just threw them in the wash. Len can grab something of Barry’s in the meantime.

They are different sizes. Len is stockier where Barry is lean. The inch or two Barry has on him also throws off the sleeves and pants, making Len look comically unfit for the clothes he dons.

Iris takes away any sting the tightness or smallness or too-long length that the clothes brings to his image. Her eyes darken and she stalks close to kiss him after he is fully dressed.

Len will still never walk out of the apartment in such garb. But he can bear breakfast looking this ridiculous if it turns Iris on as much as it seems to.

Barry grins from the stove when they enter the kitchen. “Iris! Len! Good morning!” He greets, flashing over to give them each a peck before returning to his cooking.

“I’m just finishing up the pancakes. Eggs, sausage, bacon, and coffee are already on the table.”

“Thanks, babe.” Iris responds cheerily before sitting at her usual spot at the table. Barry grins over his shoulder as he pours the batter for what must be the fifteenth pancake.

The good mood turns to ice in his veins as Len takes in the table. Like Barry said, food and drink have already been set out for them.

Barry already set his place. Made his food and poured his drink. All when Len wasn’t _looking _.__

He tries to shake the reaction off. These people aren’t like _them _.__ Barry is no _Conner _.__ And yet, the lessons Len learned from that encounter still burn beneath his skin and stay etched upon his flesh.

It would be rude to turn down their hospitality. Would be rude to _accuse _.__ It’s not their fault Len is fucked up. He shouldn’t turn their kindness into whispers of his baggage.

But he _can’t_ sit down. _Can’t_ eat this food and drink their drink, when he has no idea what might have been _added _.__

Thankfully, Iris is the only one to witness his indecision thus far. Subtly, she trades their mugs to show it is _safe _.__

His beer bottle display hadn’t gone unnoticed after all. Len isn’t sure what to make of it, but it still isn’t quite enough for him to sit.

Barry finally notices the awkwardness. He snorts and smiles so sincerely, that Len feels the cut from his joy in the ache of his heart.

“Please, Len. I know how to cook. Not going to give you food poisoning or anything, I swear.”

When Len falters once more, Barry’s grin dims and his brow furrows.

“It’s…I….We wouldn’t _drug_ you or anything, Len. Not after we just slept with you.”

His silence is speaking _volumes _.__ Len knows it is. Can hear it in the silence and static filling his ears. Can see it in the uncertainty and sorrow filling their expressions.

Forces himself to sit. To swallow down a bite that tastes of fear and bad decisions.

“It’s good.” Len chokes out, forcing another bite even as he forces the conversation _away _.__

He doesn’t want to talk about it. Not after one of the best nights he has ever had. Not with people who may never bed him again if they _knew _.__

Not when there were already so close. Not when they had already _seen_ Len breaking.

They kept pity from him thus far. He has no interest in seeing it now.

“Y-yeah.” Barry tries for cheery and fails utterly. “I was never good with sports or wood-shop or anything like that in school, so I took home-ec. Thought it would be a great way to meet girls, what with being one of the few guys in the class. Turned out, I just got great cooking skills instead. A god-send, now that I’m a speedster.”

The humor and levity fall short beneath the somber mood. Len knows his cheeks would be burning if he wasn’t so accustomed to hiding his embarrassments and short-comings.

_This_ is why he doesn’t do morning-afters. _This_ is why no one wants a second performance.

His baggage is _too much_. Too much _work _.__ Too insulting for his partners _ego _.__ Too _little_ worth for more than a night.

Len hides himself in the food, shoveling it down to keep his eyes averted and mouth from replying.

God, this was such a good idea last night. Now, Len knows it was the devil whispering in his ear.

He can’t handle this. He _can’t _.__ And these amazing people will __see.__ Will _know_ he isn’t worth the effort.

_Fuck_ , he almost wishes the food _was_  drugged. He would give anything to forget and get past this.

Barry pushes the full stack of pancakes his way instead of dishing them up.

“Len? You with us?” He asks tentatively, eyes full of sincerity.

Len blinks and returns to the present. His plate is practically empty, while Iris has barely taken a bite. The tension in his posture is showing. The pace telling in his breaths.

Fuck. He can’t _talk _.__ Can’t _explain _.__ Not now…

“Yeah.” Len swallows and croaks, reaching out to snag a pancake. “Like I said, it’s good.”

They don’t call him out on his bluff. For that, Len will be forever grateful. It doesn’t mean no awkward silence settles now that Len is once more aware. Doesn’t mean he still avoids their gaze. Doesn’t mean he finds himself regretting every decision that led him here.

A beep startles the quiet. Barry perks up, even as the solemnity still weighs on him. “That’s the dryer. Your clothes are ready whenever you want them, Len.”

“Thanks.” Len inclines his head and forces the food down with another sip of his mug.

It really does taste good. It’s just the fear turning flavor to ash. He wasn’t expecting this, was all. Thought Barry would be one to sleep in with how often he shows up late to work.

Won’t make that mistake again. Will be prepared, next time (if they _want_ a next time after this). Won’t falter again.

Will be as charming as the Flash expects Captain Cold to be. Will be as witty and clever and confident as Iris West, star reporter, expects of career criminal Leonard Snart.

He won’t falter again. Not if they give him another chance.

“You know, today is my day off.” Iris smiles softly as she grabs their attention. “And Barry doesn’t have to be at the precinct for another few hours.”

Len smiles at that. Wishes he could give in. Could give in and get it up for more fun. But…

“I can’t.” Len lets himself frown at his food. He can’t stay after the disaster of this breakfast. “Places to be. People to rob. All that.”

Len grins and tries for light-hearted. Fails miserably when he catches the matching expressions of  _disappointment_ they wear.

“Okay.” Barry tries to smile as he agrees. “I get it. We all have busy lives after all. Just…”

Iris picks up when he trails off. “It’s just, we _would_ like to see you again, Len. Would like to do this again, if that sounds good to you.”

Len shifts in his seat at that. Of course he wants to be with them again. It’s just the _vulnerability_ closeness and intimacy brings that has him on edge. He shouldn't be surprised. He really shouldn't. It was just the shock of the breakfast, throwing him off. Barry and Iris are  _good people._ They wouldn't toss him aside just because he hesitated to eat their  _b_ _reakfast._

“One week. Next Friday. I’ll be back here, if you’ll have me.”

Len finally replies, buying himself time and putting himself on the line all at once.

“It’s a date.” Barry grins widely before blushing.

Iris laughs and finally, _truly_ smiles while taking his hand.

“We look forward to it, Len. Same time?”

“Same time.” Len inclines his head with a grin. He can go do sex. Is great at sex. And maybe with a week to prepare…he won’t turn the morning after into such a cluster-fuck again.

Silence settles once more, but the awkwardness and tension have faded. He can even taste the food without the dry swallow of apprehension by the time he finishes.

He changes in the privacy of the laundry room. Iris and Barry walk him to the _door _,__ for gods-sake.

He is granted a kiss goodbye from each of them.

“See you next week!” They both smile as he leaves.

“Looking forward to it.” Len grins as he turns to stride down the hallway.

The door doesn’t close until he reaches the elevator. His smile remains plastered on his face until the elevator begins it’s descent.

Len is so screwed.

XXX

Iris frowns the second the door closes. Barry sighs beside her, scrubbing a hand through his hair in a fit of anxiety.

“We fucked that up, didn’t we?” Iris voices her concern, remembering the tension that hovered over Len the entire morning.

“We didn’t know, is all.” Barry gently soothes, taking her hands. “We had a good night. A _great_ night. Just…I didn’t know. _We_ didn’t know. Next time, we won’t make the same mistake.”

“I should have known.” Iris shakes Barry off and heads to the kitchen for more coffee. “Back at Saints. When he shared a beer with me. They were delivered _capped _,__ Barry. When have you ever seen a bartender not open your drink for you? I thought it was to make _me_ more comfortable. A girl alone in a seedy bar and all. Never thought…never thought Snart might _prefer_ his drinks be brought out like that.”

Barry wraps himself around her and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Like I said, we didn’t _know _.__ He’s had such a hard life, Iris. We can’t account for every factor. Not until we know what he has been through. What to avoid. What triggers he has.”

Iris sighs and shakes her head. “It was so much easier before. Back when he was just a ‘villain’. Back before…”

“Before he was _human _.”__ Barry finished gently with a kiss to her cheek.

“Yeah.” Iris chuckles. “Still….I want to be there for him. There really is so much more to him, isn’t there?”

Barry chuckles. “Now you know how I feel.”

“Yeah, I suppose I do.” Iris muses, turning to kiss Barry properly. “What now, though?” Iris questions.

Barry shrugs and grips her close. “Now, we keep doing what we have been. He’ll be back in a week. We know some more things to avoid, now. If more come up, we’ll avoid them too. And if Len wants to talk, we’ll be there to listen.”

Iris grins and kisses Barry. “You know…there are still a few hours to kill before you have to go to work…”

Barry grins and kisses her as well. “Why, I think I know just the way to kill the time…”

“Lead the way.” Iris chuckles, pulling Barry close and savoring every kiss. There may be a member missing for their intimacy, but Barry and Iris love each other deeply as well. They will find comfort and solace in each other, even as they discuss ways to make Len feel more comfortable.

Until he comes back, they still have each other. And that will always be enough for them to get by.

XXX

There was a flash of light as Len walked in. He blinked in surprise for a few seconds before glaring at Mick and his phone held aloft.

“What?” Mick grumbles, fumbling with his phone in the face of Len’s scowl. “Lisa wanted to know what you looked like when you came home.”

“You _told_ her?” Len seethes, throwing his keys onto the table.

Mick snorts as he continues tapping away. “You honestly think I _wouldn’t?"_

Len growls and stalks closer. “Thought we were _friends _,__ Mick. _Partners _.”__

“We are.” Mick has the audacity to _smile_ as he agrees. “I just like my balls as they are. Attached, and everything.”

Len simply huffs and stalks to the armchair as Mick chortles.

“At least tell me you gave me time to prepare.” Len growls as he focuses on taking his boots off.

“Of course.” Mick agrees, turning his attention to the remote as he channel-surfs. “I wouldn’t leave you out to dry. Lisa won’t be home till tonight at the earliest.”

“Good.” Len grumbles as he tosses his boots aside and stalks to the bedroom.

“Late night, boos?” Mick asks, way too cheery to be natural.

Len slams the door in the face of Mick’s chuckles.

He can always get him back later. For now, Len needs to thinks. Needs to catch up on sleep and come up with a plan.

Lisa won’t be as easy to get rid of as Mick is. And Barry and Iris are expecting him next Friday.

The heists Len had on the back-burners need attention as well. Along with all the other criminals out for his blood.

Len is _free_ now. Can’t show weakness. Has to show power for the Santini’s. Needs to make _nice_ with the Darbynians if he has any hope of keeping territory in this city.

Sighing, Len sinks into his mattress. He slept well last night, admittedly. Just needs a few more hours to get back on his feet. The hangover from the morning before hasn’t quite forgiven him yet for his over-indulgence.

And Lisa’s voice when she gets the full story won’t give his head any rest.

So Len lays back and he _plans _.__

Thinks over everything he has going on. Factors in Lisa and Mick. Takes Barry and Iris into account. Works it all over until his head is throbbing.

He can’t kill anyone. Not now. Not now that Iris and Barry are weighing on his conscious. Makes keeping the Santini’s in line more difficult. Makes playing nice with the Darbynians a task.

But anything good in his life takes _work _.__ That is the one constant Len has had his entire life. So Barry and Iris will be difficult to settle into his shitty cluster-fuck of a criminal life. But the outcome is worth it.

God, are _they_ worth it.

So Len plots. And Len sleeps. And Len _prepares _.__ Lisa will be here soon. His little sister’s over-protective capabilities rival his own. Not that he didn’t bring it upon himself. Past romances have always left him struggling to build himself up once more.

Lisa just wants to save him the heartbreak. Len knows this. Doesn’t think her worry is warranted in this case. But then again…who is he one to judge?

His first serious relationship turned out to be one who liked bringing guys and girls home for his _friends_ to try and join in half-way through the night. His second tried to get Len and Mick killed in order to get away clean from a heist. The fourth drugged Len and sold him to the mob to pay off his brother’s gambling debt.

And the third one when he was in his early thirties….that was the longest con Len had fallen for. He had finally turned away from casual relationships. Thought prostitutes were the way to go. And it had been working out. Seemed the perfect solution, until a regular of his told him she was pregnant.

Stayed throughout her pregnancy. Even bought a home in her name, thanks to his outstanding warrants. Played partner and father for the entire first year of their son’s life.

Gave up _crime_ and worked _security_ for gods-sake. A normal 9 to goddamn 5 in the suburbs. All for the squirming bundle he held in his arms every night.

Was determined to give his son the life he never had. Gave his all until it _ended _.__ Until he came home greeted with a restraining order. Until he was told to stay away.

The _real_ father was released from prison a week later. Lived in the home Len _bought _.__ Slept with the woman Len gave his _trust_ to. Raised the son who Len had changed _diapers_ for and rocked to _sleep._

Finally cornered Angie a month later. Confronted her over the deceit. Pleaded to be let back in. Didn’t matter the kid wasn’t _his _.__ Len was _invested _.__ Would raise him as his _own_ if he could give him a better life _ _.__ Willing to still help, to do whatever he could, to be at least a small part in that boy’s life.

Angie brushed him off. Threatened to have him arrested. Finally told him _why_ she wanted him gone.

His baggage was _too much _.__ Angie couldn’t trust Len wouldn’t become just like _Lewis _.__

Trusted the goddamn _drug addict_ of a father over _Len _.__

She was the reason Len avoided Opal City. His could-have-been _son_ why he couldn’t bear going back.

Not when he couldn’t go _near_ him. Not if he saw abuse Len couldn’t _prevent _.__ Might even be _blamed_ for.

So no, Len didn’t have a good track record when it came to relationships. Understood his sister’s concern.

But Barry and Iris were _different _.__ They were _better _.__ Right?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all!!! Got another chapter up for all my amazing readers out there, hope you guys enjoyed it!  
> Small side note: the aside of Barry taking home-ec in school actually came from my dad. His father actually taught wood-shop off and on, so my dad had all the skills from growing up with him and helping his grandfather during the summer to ace any of those type of classes. My dad, being a small teenage boy (he didn't hit his final growth-spurt until his senior year), thought that entering a class that was 90% female would be a good way to make friends and maybe even a girlfriend. He didn't get a girlfriend out of it in the end, but when some other boys tried picking on him for it, he pointed out the fact that he was the only guy in a classroom full of girls and could easily befriend or flirt with them as he was the only available guy there (his budding cooking skills only helped). The very next semester, about 10 of his friends joined that class. He didn't come out with a girlfriend, but is now an excellent cook, and makes for a great story (so I figured I would include it). :)  
> Oh boy. This was another doozy of a chapter. A lot more angst and past hurt and all that included. Shows a bit more why Len is still so hesitant about healthy relationships. For clarification purposes, Len was never raped in the past in this story. There might have been dubious consent, where he didn't know the full plans of those he was seeing, but everything had been consensual until the betrayals came afterwards. That's a big reason why sex is so easy for him, a great focus point for him, whereas trust is harder to come by. Next chapter though, we get to see Lisa and get her view-point on some of the things that have been going on. :) Gotta say, Lisa is a blessing of a character to work through in this story. Loved capturing her, and I think you guys will enjoy it as well. :)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t-VPrpo52hI Also, this is a song I enjoy listening to while writing or reading. I think I have posted other works by him in the past, but he is still good :) Great mix of dark, heartfelt, and disney :)  
> Thank you all for reading and commenting! It really does inspire me to take the time to write some more, and lets me know if the direction I'm taking works for readers, or if I should go another route. So thank you all again, and I look forward to seeing you the next chapter!!!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Discussion/recounts of past non-con/dub-con. If this is something that bothers or triggers you, then just be warned and ready. If you would like to skip this chapter but still know what happens, then just comment and I will provide a summary of events for you.

Lisa arrived back at Central City on the last train. It was late at night, but that wasn’t a problem for her. She was used to late nights, after all.

Even back as a girl, waiting up for Lewis to come home so she knew if she needed to hide or not. Then later, when Lenny was able to take her in, waiting up in the hopes that he would _come home_ from his dangerous jobs to provide the food she ate and clothes she wore.

Much, much later (and far too early for Lenny’s approval), her late nights were her’s and her’s alone. Perfecting the trades Lenny was so skilled at. Smiling and conning her way through a target. Taking their money and taking her pleasure from them in equal droves, before disappearing forever into the night.

Lenny always frowned at this. She knew all too well of the _hurt_ he himself had been through when he miscalculated.

Lisa never made those mistakes with her targets. Lenny ensured she wouldn’t. Made sure she went slow enough in the beginning; working her way through smaller cons in public areas. Taught her how to defend herself. All the things to avoid. How to read body language and situations, so she would know when it was time to get out.

Lisa had never been abused by her targets. Any she slept with, she slept with because she wanted to. Boyfriends, on the other hand, were a different story.

Her luck in the romance department wasn’t quite as shitty as Lenny’s (though it was a close call). She wasn’t exactly sure why she had always drifted towards assholes, but she did.

Could have been some left-over issues with Lewis, despite the fact that she had a fantastic father figure in Lenny.

Could have been her way of trying to prove how tough she was in the more masculine fields that drew her interest.

Could have been the fact that their social circles had just always been full of assholes, and Lisa never really mastered the art of approaching non-criminals outside of a con.

Whatever the reason, it didn’t change the fact that all her boyfriends had turned out to be assholes. Not physically abusive, as Lisa herself had put a bullet in the gut of the one and only partner who tried to hit her. Word got around after that, and no one tried shit like that with her again.

It wasn’t until a few years after that, when she was in her first relationship where she actually thought she might be falling in love with the guy, that Lisa thought she just might understand a bit better why Lenny was always so worried about her during her cons.

They had been seeing each other for a few weeks now, and sleeping together for months before that. Nothing crazy, and they still lived in separate houses as the relationship was fairly new. The sex that night had been going great. Lisa had just started building close to her own orgasm when everything changed.

The man had pulled all the way out. That wasn’t too unusual, she knew by now that he liked to do that sometimes; pulling out before pushing back in so he has a clear view of the whole movement.

What she _wasn’t_ expecting was for him to push in a bit lower, sliding into a very _different, un-lubricated,_ and _unprepared_ hole.

There wasn’t too much pain, as endorphins were still clouding her mind, and he wasn’t large enough to tear her or anything like that. The shock of the act was what killed her pleasure more than anything else.

He didn’t even comment when she went still. Kept thrusting as her mind scrambled to catch back up.

He didn’t ask. Didn’t warn her. Didn’t give her a chance to say _no_ or  _not yet._

“Is this okay? Wanna finish in your ass.” He eventually grunts, once it’s undeniably clear how uninterested (read: horrified) she is in the way things are going.

Lisa has to take a few seconds. It is unpleasant, and humiliation settles and sours in her chest.

But it isn’t actually _painful_. And Lisa had really started to care for this guy.

She doesn’t stop him at first. Hopes that he’ll be satisfied with doing it just this once, and then never again. Not without her being prepared, anyways.

It goes on for a few more minutes. Lisa can’t get back into the feel-good, floaty sex-high mindset.

As the endorphins fade away, the unpleasant feelings begin to grow.

Only when it starts getting painful does she stop him. Asks him to finish in her pussy, hoping to still end this on a good note.

Lisa doesn’t come that night. Can’t even enjoy the rest of the sex.

But she doesn’t want to lash out. Doesn’t want to run this guy off. Not when she had been feeling closer and closer to him as their relationship progressed.

Lenny was the one who found her the next day. The pain that had been muted the night before returned in full force as she used the toilet.

Her sobs are what drew Lenny to her. He camped outside the bathroom door, talking quietly to her over the next hour it took her to finish her business and collect herself.

Lisa wouldn’t tell him what happened. Hoped that this was just a one-time thing. Just wanted to forget it ever happened, and go back to how things were between her and her boyfriend _before_.

Lenny didn’t push, but he did hover. Fixed her favorite foods. Stayed close to the bathroom whenever she used it, even as the sobs tapered off and her pain decreased.

Took her shopping when she felt up to it. Played her favorite movies, and even let her try out some new make-up techniques on him.

Lisa knew Lenny was pissed. Knew he was worried about her. Knew he wanting nothing more than to put whoever hurt her in his place. But she also knew he wouldn’t do a damn thing. Not until she said it was okay. Not until he knew he wouldn’t be hurting _her_ as well by lashing out.

So instead, he quietly brought up stories of Lewis. Of _Mom._ Didn’t outright compare it to what Lisa was going through, or what her behavior alluded to. But it did plant the seed.

She finally told him a week later. Cried into his shirt as he clutched her close.

“Do you want me to tell this guy to get lost?” Len asks after she finally calms down.

Lisa frowns. Fucked up as it is, she still cares for him. Doesn't want him hurt by Lenny getting angry or protective. But the seeds Lenny planted have taken root, and she knows nothing good will happen if she continues to see this guy.

She might have stayed, too, if he had even bothered to ask if she was _alright _.__

The week apart from him had given her just enough space to look back at their relationship with a clearer head. Lenny words and stories, his _kindness_ and _worry_ had only strengthened that second-guessing.

She had thought that they had a good thing going. Sure, there were some rocky spots; every relationship had those. But he had more problems than that, and she had always ignored or excused them. He drank a lot, even if he never got violent (yet).

Had two ex-wives, and a tendency to sleep around.

Slept around often enough for her to have met him that way. He said he stopped seeing other girls once they started their official relationship, but that had still been after months of them sleeping together, and Lisa still suspected he might be continuing to do so anyways.

He had a daughter, one who he had zero custody over.

Tried to get his way, using her emotions against her. Downplayed her worth when he didn’t get his way. Praised her and showered her with compliments whenever she agreed with him.

Lisa may have been giving her heart to him, but he was just looking for a body to warm his bed.

“No.” Lisa sniffs, shaking her head. “I should be the one to do it.”

She may still care for him, but she was done being used in such a way. Knew she had to be the one to break it off. To ensure she never fell for him, or any like him, again.

Lisa had always been ruthless and in control on cons. Now, she knew she needed to transfer some of those practices into her personal life; if only to protect her and her heart from ever going through something like this again.

“I’ll be here if you need me.” Lenny smiles at her, eyes soft and _proud_ the way the often get when it’s just the two of them.

Lenny always protected her. Always _sacrificed_ for her. Lisa would be damned if she couldn’t return the favor (as she often tried to do in the past).

But Lisa wasn’t always fast enough to save him when he was drowning in pain. Couldn’t always pay back those who hurt him, like he strove to disk out pain to those who did the same to her. The Flash and his girl….they were _different _.__ They were the types that never gave Lenny the time of day. Their worlds were too different; views and experiences eons apart. Lisa still didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing compared to Lenny’s history.

Laid off the interrogation her first night back. Lenny had been holding her off and sending her away since he last ended up in prison, after all.

Now, she wished she hadn’t followed his advice. It was clear he needed his sister _here_ for him long before now.

Frowned at Mick when Lenny kept picking at his beer label. Stared in shock as he couldn’t enter or leave a room without picking up some knick-knack to play with and set elsewhere.

Glared and Mick when Lenny finally hit the can.

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me?” She hissed and leaned forward. They both knew Lenny was struggling still. Lisa was just peeved to be left out of the loop.

Mick shrugged and looked away. “Thought I could handle it. Babysat him since he got out. Was hoping he would be better before you got back.”

Lisa growls and shakes her head. “This have anything to do with the _entertainment_ my brother spent a night with?”

Mick frowns and thinks for a moment. “No. That was recent. Believe it or not…he’s been _better_ since then.”

Lisa scowls and sits back. It seems there is more work than she thought waiting for her here.

The next few days go well enough. Lisa hovers so Mick can take a break. Lenny pretends everything is fine and avoids her questions.

Lisa doesn’t buy it. Caves and looks into the people Lenny went to see. Mick didn’t have names for her, but it only takes a few of her questions for their regular contacts to lead her to Iris West.

That leads her to _Barry Allen _.__ Conveniently located at STAR labs, with the friends he has there and new-found ownership.

Not to mention the coma he was in after being struck by lightning when the accelerator blew. The coma that ended just before the Streak appeared.

It isn’t hard to put the pieces together. No wonder her brother fell for him. He would deny it, but Barry is just his type. Smart mind, plenty of hope and trust in the unbelievable or so-called ‘hopeless’ (forgotten) of society, a hint of nerd to appease the sci-fi and pun-lover in her brother, and the strength of a challenge to spice it all up. The pretty package he comes in just seals the deal.

Lenny loves the mind. Adores the challenge. But he can always get it up for a pretty face showing interest. And the Flash has shown him plenty of interest, on top of the lovely stubborn defiance he always provides in Lenny’s little ‘games’.

Lenny never confirmed it, but Lisa knows he will be meeting them again. Takes it upon herself to talk to them beforehand. Make sure they _deserve_ her brother. Ensure they won’t break him like so many others from their past.

Their address is all too easy to find. She isn’t as dramatic as her brother. Doesn’t bother fixing anything or sprawling across their furniture.

Waits in their bedroom to ambush them. Won’t be effective with the Flash in play, but it will give her the surprise needed to hopefully make them _listen _.__

She doesn’t have to wait long. It’s just Iris who shows up. Lisa has no doubt Barry is _flashing_ about for his nightly duties.

“Iris West.” Lisa coos with the accompanying charge of her gun.

Iris jumps, but keeps her composure at the surprise.

“We need to talk.” Lisa grins, hefting her gold gun for effect. Oh yes, there is _so much_ Lisa has to say.

It will be a long night. For both of them.

XXX

To say Iris expected the Golden Glider would be showing up in her home would be a lie. Though honestly, she guessed she should have.

After all, Len had put himself back under his _father’s_ whims for Lisa’s sake. Lisa had put it all on the line coming to _Team Flash_ for help when her brother disappeared.

The two would clearly do anything for each other. Made sense they would check up on the love-lives and potential fall-outs of such on each others behalf.

“Lisa.” Iris greeted primly. “Care for some hot cocoa for our chat? I know how much Len likes the mini-marshmallows in his.”

That was enough to have Lisa blinking for a few moments. With a sharks grin and startled laugh, Lisa lowered the gun.

“Cocoa is Lenny’s thing. Though, I wouldn’t say no to some wine.”

So that’s how Iris broke out the wine and a bag of cubed cheese to go with the Triscuit crackers they had on hand; all for the criminal breaking into her home and threatening her with a gun that one of Iris’ friends had made.

“Take it you found out about us.” Iris eventually broaches the topic when Lisa seems to settle into the small-talk portion of their conversation. “Here to give a shovel-talk?” Iris smiles with an obviously false sense of sweetness. Lisa isn’t the only one with a predator lurking behind her smile, after all.

“Oh! Oh no, honey!” Lisa giggles and hums appreciatively as she takes another sip. “No, that comes later. I’m just here to make sure you’re _good_ enough for my brother right now.”

Iris settles at that and gestures for Lisa to ask away. Answers every question she has. Tells of how she came to understand her feelings for Len, back when he saved her at Saints and Sinners. Delves into what came before. Of their faux pas when Len came to warn them. Of how terrified she was when Len locked himself in the bathroom.

Stumbled over what Barry told her when he got home. More confidently transcribed the events when Lisa made it clear she knew _who_ Barry was.

“So just like that?” Lisa coos as they come mostly to the end of their tale.

“Yeah.” Iris smiles softly. “Just like that. We both had feelings for him, and were confident enough in each other to seek out what we wanted. Barry has been flirting with him from the beginning, no matter how much he denies it. And me…well, I never really knew him. But I do know the first thing he said to me was a compliment of my writing. Not anything general, either. He had truly read what I had written, and had positive opinions to share with me. Everything that came after….made me open my eyes. See what Barry had been telling me. And I won’t give you any details but…we _connected _.__ Just _fit_ when he spent the night. Barry is great, but he has a habit of ending up in the kitchen well before I wake up. Would love to wake up with Len more often in the future.”

“Hmm.” Lisa muses, leaning back in her chair. “This is hard. I think I actually _like_ you. Even want to _believe_ you.”

“You want to keep interrogating me, fine.” Iris matches her posture. “But you aren’t going to scare me off. You aren’t going to change how we feel. Eventually, I’d like to get to a point where Len is comfortable around my dad and our friends. I imagine he would feel the same way about us with you and Mick. So ask whatever you need to. I don’t have anything to hide.”

Lisa studies her for a few seconds before her face hardens. Iris already knows her questions will be sharp and blunt once more.

“Are you pregnant?” Lisa asks without any build up.

Iris can’t help but blanch at that, nearly choking on her drink. “What? No, of course not. Not that it matters.”

Lisa merely hums before opening her mouth to ask another.

“Hold up.” Iris throws her hands up and narrows her eyes. “Why would me being pregnant have any effect on this.”

Lisa affects the level on nonchalance Iris has learned to tell is fake as she examines her nails.

“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t trying to convince Lenny he was the father of any kids that weren’t his.”

Iris feels her stomach plummet. Even pushes the wine glass aside.

“Did that happen?” She asks quietly. Lisa doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to.

“Jesus!” Iris hisses, turning to face Lisa. “That-that’s _messed up _!”__

“Don’t have to tell me, Sweetie.” Lisa seems pleased with her answer, but Iris isn’t done.

“Who…what…that _bitch_! _ _”__ Iris is seething by now, ignoring the satisfied gleam in Lisa’s eye. “Who would even _do_ something like that? Just…. _why _?”__

Lisa smiles and takes her hand. “You know, I think Lenny might just tell you someday. He was with her for awhile, and messed up for years after that. Good to know you won’t do the same. I don’t know how you really ended up so close to my brother, both on your end and his. But I can say I approve of at least you, for now. Just don’t go breaking his heart, Iris. It’s been through enough, and if he can’t _ice_ you after the fact….I still have this fancy gun that should do the trick.”

Iris wants to chuckle, but it still too caught up in what Lisa just told her. “That isn’t what we want to do. I get that it will take awhile to prove that we really do care about him but….I’m glad he has you. From what we’ve seen….Lenny needs more people by his side that he can trust and lean on.”

Lisa freezes a bit at that. “Because of the panic attacks?” She asks sweetly. _Too_ sweetly.

“No. Not just that.” Iris hesitates and furrows her brow. “It’s…I don’t have evidence, but…” She sighs and reclaims her wine glass before going for broke.

“At the bar. When he rescued me. The bartender brought us our beers still _sealed_. And after he spent the night….he stared at the breakfast Barry made like it was trying to eat _him _.__ I thought trading coffees might help, if it _was_ something with drinks he didn’t make or open himself. But even the _food_ had him on edge. Just….we won’t make that mistake again. And if you don’t want us to know until he is ready, that’s fine. I just….I want to understand, so I know how to help and what to avoid.”

Lisa’s eyes darkened steadily throughout Iris’ explanation. She sits back with a huff and takes a large sip.

“Lenny still never told me. Don’t think Mick even got the full story. No idea if he’ll ever tell you. Cliff notes, though? Lenny was seeing this asshole named Connor. Pretty boy that said all the right words, and looked at all the other pretty faces when Lenny wasn’t looking. Stayed with him for a few weeks. I didn’t like it, but Lenny seemed happy. Seemed to be going great, even, up until the day he disappeared.”

“Didn’t see Lenny for a week.” Lisa sighs and sucks back some more wine. “Mick was the one who found him. Broke him out of a Darbynian house. Cleaned him up and helped him recover from his injuries. Lenny never said how he got there, but he had been out with Conner the last night I saw him. He never talked about or saw _Conner_ again after that. Also never accepted food or drink, unless he saw it prepared, or trusted explicitly the ones making it. Wasn’t too hard to put two and two together.”

Iris blinks a few times, sagging in her seat. “Shit.” She mumbles.

Lisa just shrugs. “Word of advice? Don’t plate his food for him. Just bring it all out together for everyone to dish up. Lenny’s fine with that. Same goes for drinks. Unless it’s sealed, just let Lenny get it himself.”

“Thank you.” Iris pushes every ounce of sincerity she can into her smile. “Really, thank you. This helps a lot. And we promise we aren’t looking to let your brother down or hurt him in any way.”

Lisa just snorts. “Even _I_ can see that. Lenny has his issues, for sure. Takes awhile to trust. Has a lot of baggage holding him back. But when he does care about someone…only a _true_ betrayal can make him turn his back. Hell, he made excuses for _Dad _,__ even when he put Lenny in the hospital. Stuck by me through every dumb decision. Made sure Mick got the help he needed, even when his pyromania royally fucked them both over. Might even be with any number of the shitty lovers he found over the years, if they had asked for a second chance. So don’t take this lightly. Just give him time. He really is worth the wait, when he lets you in.”

“I know.” Iris gins fondly, staring off into space a bit as she thinks of the way Len held her close that one morning. “He’s worth every second.”

Lisa laughs and shakes her head. “God, Lenny finally hit the jackpot, didn’t he?”

Iris splutters as Lisa finishes her wine.

“Enjoy the rest of your night. I’m sure we will be seeing each other again soon enough.”

That shark smile of Lisa’s is back in play as she gathers her things.

Iris dumbly and politely leads her to the door. It’s only once she is gone that the night fully catches up to Iris.

Sagging against the door, she remembers every threat and every false smile and every tidbit she learned.

She remembers Lisa’s growing acceptance. Of the advice she gave. Of the friendly smile she left with as the door closed. Overall, it could have gone much, much worse, Iris muses. Gold gun aside, there hadn’t really been much threat. Was much better than what Joe might eventually grace Len with.

Smiling once more, Iris cleans up as she waits for Barry to come home. She has so much to tell him, after all. And Len’s presence to prepare for the following night.

Yeah, the night really couldn’t have gone any better, as far as Iris is concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you guys go! Another chapter up and ready for consumption! I LOVED working with Lisa and Iris like that. Seeing their characters on-screen, I feel like they would play off each other very well in fanfics (something that is sorely lacking from this community, and I will always be happy to see more of!).   
> As for Lisa's past, I felt it was important to include that. Sexual assault is something that like 1 in 4 women experience. It is so common that it is often over-looked, brushed under the rug, ridiculed, excused, or blamed on what the woman happened to be wearing. The story I included could potentially be argued as not being rape, but is something that I think a lot of inexperienced girls might experience with older/more experienced partners. Remember, a partner can say no at anytime during sex. If it continues after that, then it is rape. The feelings involved are something a lot of people experience. Abused wives don't stay with their husbands just because they are scared or for their kids; there are usually also feeling involved. Feelings cultivated in the early budding of their relationship. Feelings that are twisted and manipulated as time goes on. It doesn't make the victim at fault, but it does make it harder to escape. Showing Lisa go through that, and end up breaking things off herself, just shows he strength and resilience.  
> On a lighter note, I have another song to share. This comes from Jonathan Young (a youtuber I have shared before). It's his take on a song from FernGully (I always enjoyed that movie as a kid). If you like it, then great! If not, I try to include a diversity of songs here on AO3, so don't despair :)   
> Link is below:   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OdAVaTCQIzM   
> I will post again in about a week. Going to see Captain Marvel this weekend (!!!) and am super-excited!!! Hope you all enjoyed, and I would like to thank everyone for commenting!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Depiction of a past rape (woman raping a man) in this chapter. It's in the middle, from the XXX break, to the "Doesn't change the dream." line (for any who wish to skip it). Also, there is some smut at the beginning, for any on the look-out for that as well.

Len breathes a sigh as he holds up his fist to knock. Lisa had been going _easy_ on him. The smirk she wore for the last day only raised his apprehension. The easy agreeance she gave to him ducking out on dinner solidified the fact.

Lisa knew who Len was seeing. Had done her research. Most likely _talked_ to them.

It wasn’t just Len’s own past behavior he would have to overcome. It was his sister butting into his business as well.

Iris is the one to answer the door. She _beams_ at Len, accepting him in and taking his coat easily.

Len still feels off-kilter. Didn’t feel the need to bring supplies, as there were plenty left over in this apartment from his last visit.

But he does bring more wine. A white, this time, since Barry only had one glass of the red. Len had figured the aversion was more because of his personal taste, since Barry can’t get drunk.

The Riesling he clutches has yet to let him down. Wine snobs and supposed  _connoisseurs_ aside, this drink has paired just fine with every dish he’s tried it with. Not too sweet, not too dry, and doesn’t dull the kick of spicy food too much. Overall, the safest bet he could pick as far as he is concerned.

Iris kisses him as she takes the bottle. Grabs his hand and leads him to the table. He takes in the setting. It’s different than last time. The bowl is set, but the salad still rests beside in the pre-packaged bag from the store. The lasagna they prepared still resides in the oven. Plates and cups are empty in preparation.

Len bristles, even as he relaxes. They _knew _.__ They _saw _.__ And still, they went out of their way to make him feel _comfortable _.__

He doesn’t know what to do with that. Numbly accepts another kiss Iris grants him when he _freezes _.__

“Hey!” Barry greets them when he flashes in a moment later. “Did one extra lap of the city after a violent mugging. Didn’t feel right leaving right away after the scene I…interrupted.”

Barry looks down at that, and Len feels his heart ache at the pain he can see in the other man’s expression. “I’m sure whoever you saved is appreciative.” Len says, offering what stilted reassurance he can provide.

“Yeah.” Barry glances away with a frown. “He got out alive. Just couldn’t keep him from ending up in the hospital, is all.”

Len doesn’t have a comeback to that. Thankfully, Iris steps up. She kisses Barry fully and tugs him close.

“You did good tonight, Bear. I’m sure whoever you saved is thankful to still be alive. You aren’t some _superman _;__  there is only so much you can do. Being the fastest man alive doesn’t mean you have to take on all the guilt criminals bring.”

Len knows her words are meant to reassure Barry. Still can’t help the twinge of guilt they bring _him_. He may strive to avoid being his father, but…he hasn’t always succeeded.

Grew to be callous of the danger he left others in, innocent or otherwise. He may have tried to avoid bloodshed, but didn't always manage to do so. Even put bystanders at risk when he first tested Barry, his own hubris and gleeful excitement at this new opponent taking the forefront of his mind.

He had felt a sigh of relief when he researched the one life he took. Didn’t mean Len himself was _innocent _.__

That man could have been a good father, for all Len cared at the time. The fact that he was a shit who _raped_ people didn’t take away the guilt. Just meant Len was _lucky_ at the time. Lucky the Flash saved the others. Lucky he kept Len from going _too far_ with any of the innocents he had put on the line.Lucky he hadn’t robbed this world of _good people _.__

Len swallows thickly as Barry relaxes. It takes only a second for them to see his tension.

“Len.” They both plead, nearly simultaneously.

“Don’t.” Len cuts them off with a shake of his head. “I’ve been a criminal since before I could _drive._ I know what I’ve done. Even come to terms with it, for the most part.”

The last part comes out quiet and forced. He doesn’t like admitting it. Means he still has _weakness _.__ Means he still might _falter _.__

But they won’t see it as weakness. If anything, they’ll see it as _strength _.__ And that is enough to have Len verbalizing his doubt.

“Dinner will be ready in five minutes.” Barry puts effort into plastering on a wide, forced smile; pulling Len in. “It will be another ten minutes to let it cool after. If you want, we can talk. Or throw on a movie. Or some music. Whatever works best to kill the time and help us all relax in the until then.”

Len swallows again as Barry kisses him. He truly does enjoy being here with them. Just isn’t sure if they will feel the same way if they _really_ see him for who he is.

“Please, Barry.” Len smirks as he pulls back. “Even I know a CSI, a reporter, and a criminal walking into a bar is the start of a bad joke. Throw on a movie or some music, if you need to. I doubt _talking_ will get us any closer to tonight’s activities than waiting quietly for dinner to be served.”

Both of them frown, but there is no argument they pitch. Instead, Barry seems to compromise.

The next fifteen or so minutes pass by discussing music tastes. Barry pulls up a playlist for both Iris and Len to dissect. Iris then inputs her choices. Len follows suit. What follows in a vast variety of music to accompany them through the next few hours or so.

It lasts through dinner (which is delicious). Stays in the background for most of the night, honestly.

A good mix of the three of them. Plays each of their favorites, and introduces the others to new music.

Len can concede when he is wrong. They may not have _talked._ But they made a damn good team in the end.

The bed is as soft as Len remembered. Their lips as sweet as he dreamed they would still be.

They had been distracted last time. Len got over-eager in tasting the pleasure they brought him and he provided.

It’s Barry and Iris who fill the 69 position she brought up last time. Len watches in rapture as he fingers Barry. Imagines what this might look like for Barry when Len is the one with Iris’ pussy coating his tongue and Barry’s fingers stretching him out.

Can’t resist tapping Barry on the thigh to break him from Iris long enough to answer a question.

“Did you wash today? Because I would very much like to _taste_  you _ _,__ but don’t particularly enjoy it if you haven’t cleaned yourself recently.”

Both of them perk up at that. Len __sees__ the lust in their eyes, and _feels_ his cock swell at the sight.

“You…want to rim me?” Barry asks breathlessly.

Len shrugs, twisting the two fingers he has in Barry’s hole. “I enjoy it. Just don’t fancy a few days of puking my guts up if you aren’t clean enough for it.”

“He’s clean.” The wicked glint in Iris’ eyes say she is just as turned on by this as Barry is. “I helped him shower this afternoon.”

That’s all the confirmation Len needs. He always loved foreplay. Transferred as many skills between men and woman as he could. Savored the validation he felt upon their pleasure. Keened at the praise they provided from filthy lips.

The obscenities Barry drops just drive Iris and Len to greater heights of striving for further pleasure.

Len has never _felt_ a man come from his tongue before. But Barry is clenching around him as he spills into Iris’ waiting mouth. It feels just as heady on his tongue as Len imagines it will upon his cock.

He pushes Barry to the side after that. Knows the other man needs a second to regain his composure. Crawls up Iris’ body in Barry’s place. Savors every taste and kiss and lick and nip of flesh he can reach.

Buries his head in her crotch as he feels her swallow him down. Revels in Barry caressing them from his supine position at their side.

Refuses to leave until he tastes Iris coming undone on his tongue. Clenches his own cock firmly at the base too keep from succumbing to his own climax at the flavors and sensations surrounding him.

Barry is finally able to coax him back. Takes a minute or two to trade the flavor of Iris they both share between their mouths as she comes down.

They shuffle after that. Len somehow ends up on his back. Iris lays similarly above him, head thrown over his shoulder as she opens up her legs.

The position is a bit more awkward than last time. Barry sits on Len’s cock while rocking into Iris. Despite the angle meaning Len can’t go as deep as he wishes…Iris is still above him to provide his mouth and hands enough stimuli to make up for the deficit.

The feeling of Iris rocking with every thrust Barry provides…

The heat of Barry sinking back onto him….

The taste of Iris’ skin and the smell of her hair…

The gentle way Barry leans forward to kiss them…

It may not be deep, but it is more than enough. Barry is rocking and twisting and circling around the head of his cock. Len buries his keens in the flesh of Iris’ neck. He grips them both tight and prays for the pleasure to never end.

Afterwards, they wind up just as coated in sweat as before. Just as sated. The sheets are as ruined as Len imagines any night of passion could ever leave them.

Len doesn’t regret a second. Barely even feels a hint of loneliness like last time. They simply don’t let him.

If he isn’t kissing or touching one, then he is being pulled in by the other.

Barry ducks out from the shower once more. Len can’t help but wonder if this is an often occurrence for him. If sex just leads to the need for him to replenish his metabolism.

Can’t wonder long, as Iris draws him in. Plays with her nipples, even as he cleans her pussy. Licks at her folds, even as he reaches up to clean her torso.

She ends up clean long before he does. Barry steps in, unlike last time. Takes her place to return the favor for Len. They clench and wash and grasp and cleanse; all while they lick and savor the other.

Somehow, Iris awaits them on their freshly made bed. Two fingers are already in her hole, and her other hand busy playing with her breasts.

Len may not be able to get hard again at the sight, but Barry definitely can.

He doesn’t bother with a condom like Len always insists on. Simply thrusts into her as Len curls beside to taste her breasts.

He plays with her nipples as Barry thrusts faster. He swirls his tongue as Barry pounds deeper.

Waits until the end to move down. Savors sucking her clit into his mouth as Barry continues to circle his hips.

Pushes Barry out of the way after he comes. Laps up any trickles that are pushed out through the rhythmic clenching of her muscles.

Savors every drop. Relishes the _wetness_ awaiting his fingers when they thrust in. Rides Iris through her own orgasm.

Falls back, breathless and completely spent between the two. Grins as they curl close into him. Closes his eyes and breathes a sigh of relief at the  _openness_ he feels. At the lack of tension for being left so on-display.

Could happily fall asleep just like this for the rest of his life. Settles for the night they provide him. Turns over to face Barry, even as he pulls Iris close behind. Wraps his arms around the man and sighs as Barry shifts his ass into Len’s groin.

He may not have had any expectations for the night after their last morning-after. But this ending exceeds any he _would_ have had. And Len isn’t one to look a gift-horse in the mouth.

XXX

The night is cut short. Len can’t stop the nightmare that assails him. It’s not of his father. Not of his past interests, or of Lisa. Not even of _Mick _,__ or Len _failing_ him as he had done so long ago.

No, the nightmare was of his first _con _.__

Len had been sixteen. Was fresh out of juvie. Remembered all the rules and _lessons_ Lewis graced him with.

Eyed the woman wearing diamonds and gold like it was nothing. Took the words Lewis whispered into his ear to heart.

Len just needed to find out if she was donating tonight. If she had the cash on hand for Lewis to rob or not, and where she kept it.

Smiled as he approached her. Swallowed down the grimace at her obscene compliments.

Followed her upstairs for _privacy _.__ Knew he would likely have to kiss her to get her compliance. He had kissed a handful of girls back when he was still in school, and Lewis had warned him he might need to do so tonight for this woman.

Faltered at the hands _beneath_ his shirt. Finally pulled away when she reached for his _belt _.__

His mind blanked, but he gasped out as he held her hands away. “It isn’t….I haven’t…”

“Ohhh.” She cooed, smiling at him without a hint of _kindness _.__ “Been awhile since I’ve been a _first _.__ Don’t worry. I’ll show you how.”

She pulls him close to kiss him again. Len tries to shove down the panic. He needs to think. Just needs to _think_ beyond the _disgust_ he is feeling in himself right now.

Just needs to get the info. Needs to appease Lewis. Whatever happens here….it can’t be worse than the injuries Lewis will deliver if he doesn’t provide the information he has been sent to gleam. It _can’t_ be. Can it?

Len tries to redirect the conversation. Tries to stall. She shushes him each time.

Doesn’t matter than Len knows she has nearly twenty years on him. Doesn’t matter that he tries protesting weakly.

She bares his cock for both their gazes. Len screws his eyes shut as he feels his body betray him.

Doesn’t need to see himself grow hard. Doesn’t need to see _her_ ignoring his hesitance and swallowing him down.

He doesn’t have condoms. He wasn’t prepared for _this _.__

_She_ was, though. Knew just where they were. Sat on his face and ordered him to _pleasure_ her.

They fuck. Len hates himself a little more for every rock of their hips she makes atop him. But she is gasping in release, and Len is sobbing into his own orgasm.

He is able to swallow his _turmoil_ long enough to to throw on a shaky, false smile and gleam the information he was sent to retrieve. Lewis doesn’t have another _lesson_ for him that night. Len got away safe. Len played his part and helped them get the score. Lewis praised him for how _good_ of a job he did.

Doesn’t change the dream. Doesn’t change how much he hates himself for his physical reaction. Doesn’t change how he wakes with a gasp and shudders at the sweat he feels coating his skin.

“Len?” Barry mutters, eyes still closed even as his brows furrow. “You ‘kay?” He mumbles, clearly still waking.

“Fine.” Len manages to gasp, focusing on slowing his breathing and calming his heart.

It doesn’t matter. Iris is waking now as well. He ignores their protests and pleas as he frees himself.

Makes it all the way to the kitchen before they follow him.

“You could have stayed in bed.” He grumbles, staring at the mug of water in the microwave. “I would have been back in a few minutes.

Iris yawns and Barry scrubs his eyes.

“Maybe. But I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing you were out here alone.” Iris confesses as she reaches for her own mug.

Len is grateful for the distance they grant him. He knows how tactile they are, just as he knows he couldn’t handle touch right now.

The fact that they picked up on that and granted him his space speaks _volumes _.__

They stay mostly silent as three mugs of cocoa are made instead of one. It isn’t until they sit with the warm liquid cooling between their hands that Barry broaches the subject.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Barry asks, meeting his eyes to show the lack of judgement they hold.

Len shudders and takes a sip of his own. He’s tired and on edge, but Barry and Iris have been growing into… _something_  for him. They’re trusted. They wouldn’t use information like this against him. And maybe…maybe some good could come out of it. Might calm the turmoil Len is still pushing down. Might give them more insight the next time he breaks in front of them. Might help Len go back to sleep.

 So Len shoves his doubts down, slips past his own walls, and steels himself to open up. At least a little bit.

“Honestly? Not particularly. But…my first con that went south…I wasn’t ready. The bitch Lewis sent me after thought that ‘no’ and ‘stop’ meant ‘go faster’ or ‘suck harder’. Took me years to realize how fucked up that was. The time I was born in…and even now…men aren’t usually seen as _victims _.__ Dad was _proud_ I lost my….” He sucks in a breath, but the damage is done.

Iris and Barry both pause. Look at him with wide eyes. They know. They _know _.__

He buries himself in his cocoa, even if it burns his throat. He had already planned on telling them most of it. Just never expected to admit it had been his introduction to anything resembling sexual acts. Len wants to blame his tired mind and lingering terror for the slip. Refuses to think that it might have been because Iris and Barry are just so _open_ and _understanding_ that it makes him _want_ to dump all his shit on them to finally get it off his chest.

Iris coughs and waits until he looks up. She smiles sadly and takes a deliberate sip. “My first time was in college. I can admit I wasn’t ready, not with the man I was with. But I was tired of being the only one of my friends to have _not_ had sex. So I went farther than I was comfortable with. _Asked_ for things I didn’t really know if I wanted. Ended far too soon, and not soon enough. Wish I would have waited for someone better. And don’t even get me started on _Becky _,__ Barry’s first. What I’m trying to say…”

She huffs and Barry takes over.

“What _we’re_ trying to say, is that first times aren’t always great. It’s not about what society puts on them, or innocence lost, or anything like that. Our first times may have been horrible….but at least they were  _consensual _.__ Yours wasn’t. And while we wish it was…we are here to help you. Anything you need. Anything you want to talk about. Just let us know. It doesn’t matter if it was your first, or your fifth, or your fiftieth. Assault is assault, and we can understand if what happened then still affects you today. We’re here for you, Len. And we would never judge you for what you’ve been through, or anything you did to survive that life.”

They both look so _earnest _.__ Len wants to snort and play it off. Wants to repeat some of the _congratulations_ he heard upon popping his 'cherry'.

Finds something else entirely coming out of his mouth.

“It’s why I like cocoa.” He admits. He scowls at his drink, knowing it’s too late to take it back, and feeling the _urge_ to continue.

“Lewis had been trying to get me to drink after jobs that went well, as some sort of fucked up _reward_. Never liked it. Not with the…negative memories associated with the smell. Not beer or anything straight. But I did like mixed drinks. And Lewis noticed.”

He sighs and fiddles with him mug. “The _reward_ Lewis graced me with that night was some spiked cocoa. Was _proud_ of me for letting her….”

He shakes the memory off and continues. “Made me cocoa with baileys, peppermint schnapps, and marshmallows. Was the first time he made it for me, or any cocktail for that matter, as he didn’t consider those drinks ‘manly’ enough for his son. But when he fixed that drink, just because he knew I would enjoy it…it made me feel _normal_ and even _happy _,__ despite everything. Turned into my comfort drink, I guess, with or without alcohol.”

They sit in silence for a few moments before Len chuckles hollowly. “How fucked up is that?”

“Not very.” Barry instantly jumps in, earnest expression matched by Iris. “Len, you were given _love_ and _affection_ from you father. From what I know of you past, that was probably one of the _few times_ he had done so. It would make sense, that you would seek out that same feeling in the future, regardless of the circumstances that led to him providing you with that basic level of care every parent should give their child.”

“Yeah.” Iris pipes up quietly. “I don’t remember much of my mom. She left when I was young. Thought she died. Turned out, she just left rehab and abandoned us.”

Iris takes a deep breath. “Doesn’t change the fact that I always love snicker-doodle cookies. Not because of the taste, even if they are delicious. It’s because my _mom_ always made them. Made me think of home, even if she wasn’t a part of mine anymore. We all have darkness in our past, Len. We all have issues and comforts we turn to. They may not be as…substantial as yours. But they are there. And we can try to understand. And we will never judge you for what you have been through, or what you did to survive.”

Len swallows down the last of his drink. Sighs and scrubs his eyes to banish the sting that fills them.

“It’s way too late for any of this. Bed?” He changes the subject quickly. Barry and Iris agree with only one look at the tension in his shoulders.

“Sounds good to me.” Barry grins and takes his hand as they stand. Their mugs end up in the sink, and they end up snuggled back beneath the covers.

Len savors the feel of their body heat, even as he buries his head into the pillows instead of on one of their shoulders.

Still, they remain besides him. Stay close, while not suffocating. Stay in contact, without smothering. And Len reaches to his hip, swiping his hand until he awkwardly links fingers with both of their hands, before relaxing.

They haven’t judged him. Haven’t prodded for more than he is ready to give. Haven’t kicked him out or made him uncomfortable. In fact, they have gone _out of their way_ to make him feel welcome. And that is so much more than Len has ever had or ever come to expect.

Sleep comes easy with that realization. The nightmares either don’t torment him, or leave his memory before waking once more. So Len sleeps, and Iris and Barry curl around him, and they all enjoy their slumber until the break of day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, another roller-coaster of a chapter for you guys. A few things I wanted to touch on, for those interested. First, females raping males is in fact a thing, and happens much more than in ever reported. The fact that Len was 16 (a minor) at the time, just makes it so much worse for him as it was still while he was formulating all his budding desires and opinions and such. People often joke about female teachers being sent to jail for having sex with their teenage students. They even made a movie (maybe more, I just heard about the one) on the subject. But it isn't a joke, and is in fact rape. Even if the student wants it, he is still a child in the eyes of the law. The woman who would pursue such a relationship with a minor is always at fault, and it always bothered me that it was made into such a joke. It presents men as always wanting sex with any woman, when that is not the case. Just something that pisses me off, and I wanted to show the other side, and the damage it can do, in this fic.   
> Another thing I wanted to touch on. When Len talks about his experience, Barry and Iris both provide experiences of their own, or their personal opinions, or advice. That is something that falls into 'grey area' for me. Sharing experiences and such like that can be a great way to connect. To show that you can understand on some level what the other is going through. Doing this without being asked, however, can seem to belittle what the other went through. Sometimes, people share just because they want an ear to listen. If they want advice or your own story, then they can ask for it, or you can make sure they are fine with hearing your take on things.   
> It can also turn the conversation away from the original intention of the speaker. It can really do a lot of harm to the one opening up. On the other hand, it can actually help at times. Barry and Iris haven't been through the things Len has gone through. Haven't had friends who went through that and opened up to them, either. They are in new territory here, and trying to relate and help best they can. That's why they bring in their own stories and opinions. Len also hasn't opened up in the past to others. Doesn't know how conversations like that are supposed to go. That's why he doesn't get defensive, or angry, or subdued at their replies.   
> Long story short, I just wanted to make sure you guys know that it is always good to ask what someone needs from YOU when they are willing to open up about difficult issues like this. Rape, trauma, addiction, depression, suicide, etc. Just ask them what they need from you, before trying to insert your own opinions. Sometimes, they will like to hear your take or experiences. But if they just want someone to listen, then just let them listen. Sorry for the little rant, but this is something I know I have failed at in the past, and have had others fail at when I needed to talk as well.   
> Anyways, mini-rant aside, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! I know we covered a lot of heavy stuff, and there will still be up and downs left for this tale. Thank you all for reading, and your comments are always so uplifting to read!   
> On another note, I have more music to share with you. This is a waltz that was composed by Sir Anthony Hopkins (yes, Hannibal composed a classical piece, and it is awesome!). He waited decades to have it played, because he was afraid that no one would like it. It is great for background noise, and I recommend you all try giving it a listen if you haven't (his wife's reaction to hearing it is amazing as well). Link below, and I will see you all next week!   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xHBI-oxRE6M


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is a bit more action-packed, so there will be scenes of violence and blood/injury, along with implied minor character death.

Weeks pass after that night. Lisa sticks closer to Central, only stepping out for a few days at a time here and there. Mick finally and fully stops hovering, leading to the two no longer being at each others throats. Lisa digs good-naturedly as she teases Len relentlessly. Mick just snorts and smirks as he sips his beer.

They keep up the Friday night arrangement; Len and Iris and Barry. Len doesn’t feel comfortable with more than that weekly visit, so they leave it as is for now. There are no more late-night confessions over cocoa and nightmares.

Though they do still learn more about each other. Len learns of Barry accidentally causing a fire in the gym with his eighth grade science fair experiment. He learns of the time Iris decided rollerblading would be her new _best skill_ , before promptly landing flat on her ass when she was 12.

They learn of Len going to Burning Man that one and only time. Mick was obsessed. Len was determined to babysit.

They were all doubled over in laughter after Len described a handful of the more outlandish situations he had to get Mick and himself out of over the few days they were there.

So they continue to learn bits and pieces. Pick up on behaviors and habits. Learn how to move and interact with each other more closely. _Grow_ closer with the time spent together.

The sex is still incredible. None of them have previous experience with threesomes. _All_ of them utilize the internet to find more amazing (and some outright ludicrous) positions to try.

It isn’t all moans and groans and gasps of pleasure now. _Laughter_ fills the space at times as they move together. Not to ridicule or at another's expense. It comes from the joy and happiness and even amusement at some of the puns Barry and Len (and grudgingly Iris) now occasionally (often) throw in.

The lightened mood only seems to draw them in further to each other. Brings an intimacy much deeper than sex to their interactions and times in bed.

Has Len glaring at his drink as he sits in the pub much further from his usual haunts to avoid anyone he knows. Can’t bear to be around familiar faces as he wallows and simmers and _thinks _.__

Len knows how this _thing_ between them is growing. Knows how _close_ he’s gotten. How far underneath his skin they’ve burrowed.

Pulls out his phone once more as he shifts through the pictures. Hartley has helped him a lot with his hacking skills, and Len is eternally thankful for that.

He swallows another drag of his rum and coke as he glares at the picture of Angie and _Todd _.__ Scrolls through the news feed until he reaches a picture that has him setting his drink down.

Jason smiles with a toothy grin (minus a few teeth) from his phone up at him. It was taken a few years ago, re-posted in one of those _memories_ spiels that have grown more popular. Jason would be twelve by now, not the six he is in the picture.

His clothes are shabby. Len can see how thin he is. Too thin, if you ask him.

Still, Len can’t find a hint of the pain he himself buried in his younger years behind that smile. Jason doesn’t look broken. Doesn’t look crushed beneath the weight of parents who take their anger out on each other or him.

His brother is pulled tight under his arm. Almost two years his younger, and still smiling so brilliantly. They look _happy _.__ Len can only hope the rest of their life remains so.

He isn’t stupid. May have been at the time, but….

Jason looks so much like _him _.__ Not the dick-for-brains _Todd _.__ No, his blue eyes are nothing like the murky brown Todd has. The darker hair far from the sandy shade Todd wears.

Len swallows and flicks to another picture. He never told Lisa his doubts. Never told Mick either.

They only keep him up at night when he wallows. Because both these boys look so much more like Len than _Todd _.__

But the restraining order was never lifted. And Len’s life has been hard and full of danger. Lisa and Mick are already at risk for kidnappings and being used as leverage against him. Len doesn’t want such young boys forced into his life of running from cops and criminals alike.

Not that he doesn’t keep tabs on them. Not that he doesn’t dream up fantasies of claiming and raising them as his own.

But they look _happy _.__ And Len still can’t shake the fear that he won’t fuck them up just as much as Lewis did to Len.

Maybe not with beatings and manipulation. Len would never do that to a _child._ But there are other ways to fuck someone up. Len knows it's difficult for him to open up. Knows that he wasn't always the best sibling-slash-parental figure for Lisa. Knows that he doesn't really have one place to call  _home._ Knows that he is still in danger of arrest. That there are still criminals with a beef against him. That there are so many things that a father should be, that Len  _fails_ at. 

Angie was right. Len can’t be trusted around children. Can’t be trusted around people so _pure_ and _innocent_ and _good _.__

And yet….and yet, Barry and Iris still have him. Still _want_ him. Still _pursue_ him and welcome him into their lives.

Len only has one conviction scarring his record now. But there is still time to be served, and a warrant out for his arrest.

Len knows he could talk to Barry and Iris about this. Knows that they might know people who could help him argue that conviction. Could testify himself and fight for the charges to be dropped.

He could ask for a DNA test. Could prove those two boys are _his _.__

But what then? Rip them from their lives? Force them to start again with a stranger for however many days Len is granted custody? Upend their lives and struggle to make an honest living, when he’s been a criminal for twenty or more years longer than they’ve been _alive _?__

Scowling, Len pockets his phone. This is only torturing himself. What-ifs and happier endings have never been in his deck of cards. Best not to open that can of worms now.

He only put the pieces together three years ago, eight years after Angie had kicked him to the curb and claimed he wasn’t the father. Eight years of only checking school and hospital records to make sure Jason was fine.

Three years of going back and forth on what he should do. If it was better for the boys to have Len in the picture. If Len would ruin their lives by even _trying _.__

Three years, and Len is still no closer to an answer. Shakes his head to clear his mind. Now isn’t the time to dwell too deeply.

His drink had been paid for in cash. Len quickly finishes it and stalks from the pub. His thoughts are still swirling with images of the boys, along with the conflict of emotions he is also struggling to make sense of with Barry and Iris.

They would be good parents, at least. If something happens….Len would trust them with the boys. They would never stoop to hurt children. Would show them kindness and love and acceptance. Would protect them and keep them safe. Keep them happy.

Maybe Len should tell them. Ask their opinion. Just in case something happens to Angie and Todd. Just in case something happens to Len himself.

He makes it five blocks before he realizes he has a tail. Shudders internally at how _sloppy_ that is.

It’s too late to turn back and find crowded streets once more. Only a matter of time before he is cornered.

Slipping his cellphone back out, Len shoots off a quick text to Mick. Just the standard SOS, letting Mick know he is being tailed and his GPS is turned on.

It won’t be enough. Len is far enough away that it will take Mick a good twenty minutes to get here.

Len laments leaving his motorcycle at the safe house. It had been acting up lately, so Len had taken the bus and decided to look at it later. The fact that he left to _drink_ had only solidified that decision, and left his current circumstances so much further up in the air as far as fortunate outcomes went.

He could wait at the bus stop. It’s only a block away. But those streets are even emptier than his current path, and Len knows he would be dead long before the bus arrived. So he keeps walking, and keeps his head down, and examines his options.

His glock rests comfortably in the back of his jeans. Ten rounds in the mag, none in the chamber, and safety on.

Would take a full two seconds to cock a bullet and flick the safety off as he aims. More than enough time for them to get a shot off. And that’s if only one person is tailing him.

Alleyways are deathtraps. Dead-ends asking for them to shoot him. So Len keeps walking and keeps his eyes peeled.

Finds his prize in the form of a parking lot behind a small strip mall. Few bystanders to get in the way of cross-fire. Plenty of cars to duck behind, and it is sheltered from the main road.

Len walks calmly until he enters the lot. Bends over as he ducks behind a car as soon as he knows he is out of sight of the sidewalk. Keeps the crouched position as he jogs to a more secure location with visual of both entrances and exits.

His tail of two enter the lot moments later. They look confused, scanning the cars in earnest. Two more meet them from the other side. They wander towards the middle to talk, gazes still roaming.

Len grits his teeth from behind the trunk concealing his location. He recognizes them. Wilson, that ass, is still pissed about how Len called him out and threatened him. The other three are remnants of the Santini’s reign in these streets.

It was clearly coordinated. Someone recognized Len. Let the others know. They had been corralling him to corner him. If Len hadn’t noticed in time…he would be dead by now.

Mentally cursing, he does another tally. Looks around for the best cover and vantage points. Quickly inventories everything on hand. His cell, burner, glock, and the knife tucked in his boot are the only items that prove helpful.

The four have spread out, hands resting on their concealed arms as they check behind cars. Len drops the burner before crouch-jogging a few cars away as silently as possible.

He makes it far enough to get a clear shot. Dials the burner from his cell before pocketing it.

The blaring ring-tone grabs attention, just as Len knew it would. All four circle his previous position. Len only has a clear shot at two of them.

Leaps out once their backs are turned. Fires four shots in quick succession before diving towards more cover.

His shoulder slams painfully into a car when he momentarily looses balance. He scrambles behind it before more shots come his way, ducking against the tire as bullets ricochet and screech against metal all around him.

Two of the men are down. Torso shots. Either dead, or left wounded enough to stay out of the remainder of the fight.

That leaves six bullets and two more men. Len doesn’t have another distraction up his sleeve. Knows how easy they can jump him from either side. Len can’t shoot at two people in opposite directions at once, after all.

So he is forced to throw off shots. Just to keep them at bay and buy him time.

Five bullets left.

Four left.

Three left.

Two left.

Len curses. He would have to hit them both directly at this point. Highly unlikely, and harder still to come up with a plan for executing such actions.

Cursing, Len dives for another car to act as cover. The bullets are still following his path when Len steps out the other side.

Two shots are fired quickly. The third man is down. Now, it’s one-on-one.

“Snart!” Wilson screams. “You’re a piece of shit, you know that? _Disrespecting_ me in front of _everyone _!__ And for what? For some _cow _?__ For some _bitch_ reporter who doesn't know her place?”

Len barely keeps himself in check. Knows Wilson is taunting him in a bid to draw him out. Barely resists jumping out anyways.

“I found some friends!” Wilson continues. “They weren’t too happy after what you did to their boss, running the family out of town and all that. Still have a price on your head, actually. Might even fund my early retirement. After all, they never said they wanted you delivered _alive _.”__

Len feigns left, rising enough to attract fire. Wilson is close. Only a few yards away. Len rolls away to pop up on the other side after drawing his fire and attention away from his new position. Throws his gun at Wilson when the man turns to aim at him.

The idiot ducks and his shot goes wide. It buys Len enough time to reach him. They roll around on the ground after the initial tackle. Their hands alternate between a fight for dominance of the loaded gun, and trading glancing blows as they continue to grapple.

That hit against the car earlier must have done more damage than Len realized. His arm is weaker, and his range of motion stilted.

Means he misses some punches he should have landed. Means the shots still going off every now and then are growing closer and closer to his _head._

The fight is dirty and sloppy and ungraceful. They are both bruised and panting. The gun is still clutched between them. Their fists still swing and they try to avoid each and every punch thrown their way.

Wilson comes out on top. He had more mass than Len. More strength and range, thanks to Len’s less-than-100% arm.

He ends up pinned. Wilson has one knee on Len’s chest, the other on his left arm. His right arm is clenched tightly in Wilson’s hand, while the gun is pointed straight at Len’s face.

“Fuck you.” Wilson spits, glaring and seething as blood trickles from his nose and one of his eyes is already beginning to swell shut.

Len just sneers in response; knowing he has nothing left up his sleeve. This just infuriates the other man even more.

“Die, bitch.” Wilson growls. Len closes his eyes, anticipating the pull of the trigger. While he would wish for a more dignified death, Len had always known how likely it was that he would go out this way.

The next few seconds pass in a blur. There is no shot. The sound of blows and crackle of electricity fill the air. Len would recognize that scent of burnt rubber (tripolymer, as Barry always makes a point of reminding him) and an oncoming storm anywhere.

_Barry _.__

Len finally manages to crack his eyes open. Barry stands a few paces away, panting over the unconscious form of Wilson. The other goons have also been moved to one single pile.

“Scarlet.” Len finally finds his tongue as he pushes himself into a sitting position. “What are you doing here?”

Len is cautious. _Has_ to be cautious. After all, three men have _his_ bullets in them right now. Self-defense or otherwise, this has to at least strain the deal they came to so long ago. Maybe even put their developing _something_ with Iris into question as well.

Barry turns to Len with a righteous glare, body practically vibrating with fury.

“You-” Barry starts, only to falter when he approaches. The look of shock and horror Barry adapts has Len tensing in anticipation.

“You’re wounded.” Barry continues quietly, hesitating like he wants nothing more than to flash forward and _help _,__ but is still rooted in the spot by the shock and conflicting storm of emotions raging behind his eyes.

Len frowns, thinking back. He knew he took a few hits. Nose is bleeding. Face and body bruised to hell. But it wasn’t that bad. Nothing to warrant the look on Barry’s face.

It’s only when Len looks down at his blood-soaked shirt that he freezes.

“Huh. Guess I got shot.” Is all he manages. The pain hasn’t hit him yet. The adrenaline of the fight kept it at bay. Shock must have already begun to settle in, he realizes. That’s why he still can’t feel it. Small mercies, even if he might be _dying_ at the moment.

Couldn’t remember getting hit. Must have been when he hit the car. Maybe even the reason he lost his footing in the first place.

Looks back at the pavement. Notes the smears and trail of blood leading towards him. Distantly knows that it’s _his_ blood he is looking at now.

“Don’t move.” Barry is at his side now, taking charge of the situation to keep the fear at bay. “I can take you to Caitlin. She can patch you up.”

“No.” Len waves him off, struggling to free his phone from his pocket. “They don’t know about us yet, remember? We all agreed to keep this private for now. How would it look if you brought me there like this? Especially after what just happened.”

“But you’re _bleeding _,__ Len!” Barry pleads, pressing his hand against Len’s shoulder to try and slow the leaking blood.

_That,_ Len does finally feel. He hisses and nearly drops his phone at the agony pulsing from his shoulder.

“I got someone.” Len grits. “She knows her shit. Just need to call her, is all.”

Barry’s lips thin to show how unhappy he is with this. Still, he doesn’t argue.

“I already had Cisco call the cops. They should be here soon. Just tell me where to take you.”

Len finally gets Baez’s number pulled up. Makes a short, aborted motion to signal for Barry to wait.

She picks up on the second ring. Len quickly explains his situation. Shawna gives him an address, saying she will be there in ten minutes.

Len thanks her before hanging up. Relays the information to Barry.

The world tilting around him finally brings the pain to full-force. Len is gasping by the time he finds himself sprawled on a couch. There are towels under him, courtesy of Barry no doubt, and a pillow beneath his head.

“You should leave, Scarlet.” Len hisses between clenched teeth. “I got someone on the way. Doubt they’d be happy to see you.”

“Len, you’re hurt. I’m not leaving you like this!” Barry argues, grabbing his hand tightly and locking such earnest eyes on Len.

“Please, Barry.” Len doesn't beg, but even he can admit that it sounds damn close to it right now. “I’ll be fine. Trust me, this is someone you don’t want to see, and they want to see you even less. It’ll be better for everyone involved if you aren’t here when she arrives.”

Len never said her name. But he can see the dots connecting in Barry’s mind. Sees the slump of his shoulders and regret shining out in his defeat.

“Call me. Once the bullet is out. Please.” Barry pleads softly.

“I will, Barry.” Len matches his tone, gripping back as tightly as he can.

Barry hesitates only long enough to kiss Len. Just the once. Nothing filthy or passionate. Just a tender pressing of lips; a hitched breath displaying the tension and turmoil of the situation. A gentle parting caress, lingering on Len’s cheek.

“Stay safe, Len. And get better.”

“I will.” Len musters up a smile as he vows, squeezing Barry’s hand one last time before the man disappears in a flurry of lightning.

The mask crumbles as soon as Len is alone. The pain he was covering breaks through the cracks. His shoulder is on _fire _.__ Aches and sharp twists of _agony_ scatter his face and torso. His heaving chest jostles the wounds with every breath.

Eight more minutes. Len just needs to wait eight more minutes. Then Baez will be here, and Len can succumb to the darkness. Eight more minutes of agony before he puts his life in her hands.

He just needs to wait. Won’t be long now…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I think, 'it's time for more comfort, less hurt'; my muse decides to butt in with, 'listen, that's a great idea and all. HOWEVER....' So, yeah. That just happened. Okay, mini chapter break-down time. As for the boys being Len's, that was something that this story had been building towards, and finally was addressed. Knowing that, it just makes Len more conflicted whenever he remembers his time with Angie, given everything that happened afterwards and Len's belated realization. Him not coming forward as their father isn't meant to paint him as a bad guy. It isn't meant to paint him as a good guy, either. Len is only human, and struggles and makes mistakes just like any other person. And in this, I think Len is at least on the right track when it comes to his thought process. He's thinking about the boys first and foremost. Their happiness. Their safety. Their well-being. Len is aware enough of his own life and personal issues to know that there is a possibility he could damage that happiness/safety/well-being if he were to insert himself into their lives now. But on the other hand, this is still a father who is refuse to take ownership of his own children. It's one of those morally grey areas to explore, and showing Len's conflict was interesting to take on (for me, at least). Showing how he wanted nothing more than to claim them, but his paranoid (rational) side over-came that. Coupled with his self-doubt (bordering on self-loathing), it just sets everything up for a wonderfully conflicting inner-dialogue.   
> As for the fight, I tried to mesh movie/TV-show shoot-outs, with how stuff like that more realistically goes down. Len not noticing when he was shot is an actual thing. It happens a lot in wars, in accidents, in violent or traumatic events, etc. Him being worried about Barry's reaction is a valid concern as well. In the show, Barry's moral compass has a habit of widely changing from his staunch moral stand-point of death never being acceptable or the answer, to going into greyer areas and accepting a lot more wrong so long as something right is the end goal. This is something that Len would have picked up on, and he would have no idea if Barry would accept or condemn his actions when there was loss-of-life involved. Just another little thing I wanted to explore.   
> We are nearing the end, guys! Just a few more chapters left! I want to thank everyone who left such lovely comments, and I am so glad that you all are enjoying this tale! Hope you guys liked this chapter, and I will see you all again in a week with the next one!


	16. Chapter 16

Iris is there when Len wakes. He groans as he tries to sit up. She hushes him and insists he remain reclined with a hand to his chest.

“You were _shot _.__ Just take it easy.”

Len blinks a few times at her words. Takes a few moments to examine his surroundings. He recognizes it, of course. How couldn’t he, after spending every Friday night here for the past few weeks.

“You and Barry took me in?” Len questions, feeling a spike of uncertainty.

Iris hums. “Shawna would have been fine keeping you, but she had classes she didn’t want to skip. Lisa and Mick picked you up and planned on watching you, but Barry and I wanted to help. Besides, they are tracking down what led to your attack on your side of the law, while Barry is doing the same on his.”

Len grimaces as he does his best to slowly settle into a more upright position. Iris shoves pillows behind him and steadies his shoulders the whole way.

“Three of them were Santini men. High enough in the chain to still feel loyalty, but low enough to be left behind.” Len mumbles.

Iris’ eyes gleam with that investigative spark, even as she still watches him worriedly.

“You and Mick ran them off awhile back, didn’t you?” Iris isn’t really questioning him. She would have heard the rumors by now, and is mainly asking for confirmation.

Len nods and sighs. “They were still pissed that I made their source of cash and jobs disappear with its tail between its legs.”

“And the fourth?” Iris assumes an innocent expression when Len raises his eyebrow. “Barry told me there were four men.” Iris clarifies.

Len sighs and looks away. He is pretty sure she will remember Wilson and the significance of his ‘beef’ with Len.

“How many made it out?” Len asks instead.

Iris blinks a few times before dropping her gaze as well.

“I know one what a head-shot.” Len elaborates, keeping his tone flat and emotions buried. “The other two ended up with a bullet somewhere in their torso. Means I killed one or more. Means I broke Scarlet’s deal. Again.”

Iris seems to deflate at that. “Two are dead.” She quietly admits. “One in the hospital still. The other was sent on to Iron Heights to await trial.”

Len lets out a shaky breath, and watches everything he had building crumble to dust behind his eyes once more.

“It’s still an active crime scene, but Barry told me everything is pointing to self-defense.”

Iris grips his hand and forces him to look at her. “We don’t like you taking a life, Leonard. But we do understand that sometimes you have no other choice. That you are _given_ no other choice than life or death. And we can’t fault you for choosing _life_.”

Len looks down again. “I was distracted.” He scowls. “Should have noticed sooner.”

Iris settles beside him. “Maybe they should have decided against following someone with the intent of killing them. We wish it didn’t happen. But we don’t blame you for it.” She hums, interlocking their fingers and stroking the back of his hand with her thumb.

Len swallows all of his guilt and shame and accepts the gentle half-embrace Iris wraps him in; mindful of his injured shoulder.

She just holds him for awhile, respecting his need for quiet. His thoughts are a swirly mess of conflictions.

He never liked killing, but he always accepted it. Always moved on and buried his regret. He couldn’t afford to hesitate just because he was still feeling remorse or anguish over a past life took.

It took him a few minutes to sort through his feelings. Lament the loss of life. Accept his role in it. Let the emotions roll over him before forcing them down.

“I need my phone.” Len eventually stirs, checking his pockets for the device. He knew his burner and gun were left behind at the scene, but his personal cell had been securely tucked away in his pocket last he remembered.

“Here.” Iris reaches over to grab it for him from the bedside table.

“Thanks.” Len mutters, opening it up and sweeping through his contacts. He shoots a text off to Rathaway, asking him to look into the families of the two men that were killed.

He won’t regret taking their life. But if they left a spouse or kids behind…Len would at least ensure they were taken care of financially.

Don’t need the cycle repeating. Scumbag father killed sends his family into poverty without a main source of income. Leads them into crime-ridden neighborhoods and the waiting arms of potentially ‘wrong’ friends. Not necessarily bad people. But _desperate_. And desperation can lead you to doing all sorts of things. Add to that the anger and sorrow of a lost family member, and you have yourself a potential criminal or ‘high-risk’ victim.  

So Len will make sure they are compensated. He can’t replace what he took from them. Can’t undo what he did. But he _can_  do at least this, so he will.

After all, Len hasn’t stolen because he _needed_ money in years. Yes, he likes money. Likes it a lot, in fact. But he already has plenty stashed in various accounts and locations. More than enough to give some away every now and then.

Iris watches him with calculating eyes, but she doesn’t ask. Len is grateful for her quiet support, eventually relaxing back and palming his phone.

He wants to look at the pictures again. Ever since he realized that those boys were probably his…it would calm him to see them. Remind him that they were fine. Ease his mind when he was feeling out-of-sorts. Remind him why he had to stay away...

Especially _now_. Len had nearly been killed today (yesterday? He isn’t quite sure how long he was out). Had taken lives in response. No child should be thrust into a life like that. Len remembers all too well his own childhood; standing in his fathers shadow, and at his side, and crumbling under his fist.

“What are you thinking about?” Iris asks after another few minutes. It’s clear that his expressions as he dwelled had her curious.

Len just shrugs. “A lot of things. It doesn’t matter.”

The clear dismissal has Iris frowning. She obviously wants to press, but holds back. Instead, she asks after his pain management. If he needs more meds. If he wants to shower.

That last offer, he does take her up on. The wound and surrounding area had clearly been cleaned, but he is still wearing the same clothes he was shot in, and the sweat and blood and gunk dried on his skin and wrinkled clothing has him itching to be clean.

It’s the first time they shower without turning it sexual, though she does help him slowly undress when his shoulder twinges in discomfort (which would have been a turn-on, if not for all the other shit going through their minds at the time).

She wants to wrap the wound in plastic to keep it dry. Len brushes off her worry. Shawna had already stitched the injury. So long as they continued to check for infection, a little bit of soap and water won’t hurt.

Iris takes over for him almost immediately. Scrubs him down gently and slowly. Rubs some of the tension from his back. Caresses his skin and chastely kisses the back of his neck.

He would return the favor, but she is already guiding him under the spray before quickly cleaning herself.

He does manage to wash her hair. Only one hand can go to this task, as lifting his other would irritate his shoulder. The soothing sensations of running his fingers through her hair does wonders to relax them both.

She wraps the injury for him again once they dry off. Rubs some salve on it, checks on the redness and swelling, and gently binds the bandage. She even manages to check his other ‘injuries’ with little fuss on his end. The bruises on his face and around his ribs are nothing. The scrapes and bumps will be healed within days.

Even his knuckles arise her concern. Bruised, with only a split or two to break the skin. Doesn’t stop her from gently running salve over it, even if bandages aren’t required.

Len thinks he wants to kiss her. So he does. Is happily met with enthusiastic lips returning the affection.

Len likes _pleasing_ his lovers. Loves to get them worked up, while his own pleasure slowly builds. But his shoulder leaves him at a disadvantage.

He tucks his head away in shame and failure, a grunt of displeasure and irritation leaving him as he knows he can’t go further right now. Well, he could. But doing so would slow the healing. The pain that would bring would also dampen his own pleasure. Len isn’t one to just _take_ his pleasure, leaving his partner high and dry. As much as he would like to thank Iris properly, to distract them both, to drown himself in pleasure…it isn’t the smart move right now. So he ducks his head, and swallows around the tension growing in his stomach.

Iris, on the other hand, holds no such restraint, and she doesn’t give him a reprieve.

Instead, he soon finds himself sprawled on the bed. Iris rests between his legs with his cock weighing snugly on her tongue.

“You don’t have to.” Len tries to protest. After all, his previous bedfellows were all about what _he_ could provide in return as well (except for the prostitutes, and a paid partner is a far cry from what Iris is and has come to mean to him).

“I want to.” Iris grins up at him. “Never liked blow-jobs. Always felt demeaning and uncomfortable. Never liked giving them, until Eddie. Until Barry. Until _you _.”__

She licks up his cock and Len throws his head back. “The three of you...it makes it _more._ Giving you pleasure, knowing I'm the one doing so...I  _like_ that. Like pleasing people I care about. Love tasting you, feeling how much you want me..." 

She gives him a few more licks and bobs of her head as he moans. "I remember you lapping Barry’s come from me. Want to know what _you_ taste like now.” She grins up at him.

“Barry?” Len barely manages to pant, because he isn’t _here _.__ Iris is with Barry first and foremost; Len just figured they were a package deal.

“We already talked about this too.” Iris assures while sucking his head into her mouth, before coming up with a pop.

“He got you off before we were together, after all. And we both agree you are part of this relationship, with or without all three of us.”

Len groans and leans back. “I don’t know if I can return the favor.” He honestly admits, exhaustion from the fight last night, the meds he took, and his energy being dedicated to healing his injuries  weighing down on him.

“Doesn’t matter.” Iris noses his pubic hair and brushes a manicured, shortly-cut nail (practical, and it makes typing easier for her than having longer nails or press-ons) against his hole to draw a groan from him. “This is about _you _,__ Len. Helping you relax. Helping you heal. Helping you rest.”

Len bucks towards her and grips her hair. “What did I ever do to deserve you two?” He mumbles.

“You were just _you _.”__ Iris hears him, coming up to reply before swallowing him down once more.

They don’t talk after that. Not unless you count the profanities and warnings spilling from Len’s lips. Not unless you count the pleased hums of approval Iris voices as she swallows him down.

They pant in the after-glow. Len wishes to taste Iris. To return the favor. To stretch this feeling and moment on a little longer. But exhaustion weighs him down, and his shoulder is beginning to twinge in discomfort.

“Go to sleep, Len.” Iris quietly commands, slipping his boxers up his legs and gently releasing the waistband to rest on his hips.

And so Len does. He sleeps, and he dreams of hot mouths and hard cocks. So Len dreams of Iris and Barry, and he rests.

XXX

Barry is there when Len wakes. It’s a good thing, Len tells himself. Barry isn’t full of fury or righteous indignation. He isn’t berating Len or kicking him out.

But Barry and Iris play off each other, as Len is quick to learn. Build up their concern and determination to _help _.__ Ask after him to the point of irritation. Step in to complete menial tasks, even if he doesn’t need or ask for their aide.

Smother him with their kindness and worry. Follow him around like they’re afraid he’ll keel over without their presence.

It’s _maddening_.

Len knows, objectively, that this is how normal people react to someone they care about being injured.

But Len never had that before. Not really. He had Mick and Lisa most of his life. A few others he thought cared for him, until they betrayed him in the end.

Mick and Lisa did care for him while injured in the past, but only when it really was a grievous injury. After all, they had been through much worse together than one lousy bullet to the shoulder. Yes, it sucked. But it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, and wasn’t as bad as he’s had before.

Mick and Lisa know this first hand. The three of them have helped each other through truly debilitating injuries and recoveries. Len can walk about just fine, bend over with only a twinge of pain, and has full use of at least one arm. That’s more than enough for their standards of what _doesn’t_ warrant this level of hovering.

But it isn’t enough for Barry and Iris. They weren’t there through the worst of it. They didn’t see him hooked up to machines and chained to his bed. They didn’t see the months of physical therapy he endured in the past. Learning to walk again. Learning to use his hands again. Learning to talk again, after that one blow to his head sent his brain swelling and resulted in ‘minor brain damage’ that fucked him up for over a year, but graced him with his near-perfect memory retention that he both loves and hates afterwards.

This is a walk in the park for Len. But Barry and Iris don’t see it that way. He hates their hovering, hates their concern, and hates their worry. Hates their fragile treatment of him.

But he can appreciate it. Wishes he had more of this throughout his life, if he is honest with himself. Isn’t sure if he wants to scream at them or kiss them.

Settles on silence. On observation. He isn’t in his element, right now. Isn’t sure how he is supposed to react. So he does nothing. Says nothing. Retreats into himself until he can make sense of the abundance of care and kindness they shower him with.

They notice. Of course they do. But they don’t push for more than Len can give. They fill the silence with idle chatter. And when they think he isn’t looking, they frown at him with such _concern_ that Len’s chest constricts in emotions he can’t even _name_.

He should go. Should recover in peace and solitude and let them get back on with their lives. But it is so much easier to stay. To know he is _wanted _.__ To know they are there for him if he needs them.

They take alternating shifts soon after that. Iris has to go back to being a reporter and all that, while Barry takes the night shift at his own job. Even if they are sleeping, one of them is almost always there with him.

It helps, only having to deal with one of them at a time. Their intense _care_ can’t feed off each other if one isn’t present.

They take turns helping him shower when he needs to (even if he doesn’t technically require their help for that, not that he’s complaining). They check his wounds, and rub ointment on his shoulder after.

Glare at him every time he ends up taking his meds later than prescribed.

It’s not that Len _wants_ to be in pain. He’s just used to it, and unused to taking anything for it.

The antibiotics _are_  a bonus, though. He had to deal with one infected knife wound in the past, and never wants a repeat of that experience. Those, he does make a point of taking (mostly) on-time.  

The stitches will dissolve in a few days. Means he doesn’t have to cut them out, which is nice. They still itch and irritate his skin beneath the bandage, but they do their job, and his wound is healing nicely by all accounts.

They don’t try and seduce him again. Not after that first blow-job Iris gave him when his head was spinning circles the first day. It’s surprising, and yet totally what he would expect from people like them.

Still makes him uncomfortable. The reminder that this is more than just _sex _.__ That’s always where his relationships failed, in the past. When Len thought it became more than something physical.

It’s no wonder, then, that next Friday finds him back at the kitchen table. He’s recovered a decent amount of movement with his arm, but still keeps it in a sling to let the injury fully heal and avoid straining it.

There is no cocoa this time. Just his phone, glaring it’s bright screen in the darkness of the room.

Iris is sleeping soundly in bed, and Len looses track of time.

“Hey! What are you still doing up?” Barry greets quietly as he slips out of all his CSI accessories and settles beside Len.

The screen clicks to black. Len should leave it at that. Should make a joke and drag Barry to bed.

But this last week has shown Len so much more of Barry and Iris. Has had him thinking more as well.

“Tell me.” Len murmurs as he brings his phone back to life. “Do they look happy?”

Barry furrows his brow as he takes the picture in. “I mean, yes. They look pretty happy to me. Why? Do you know them?”

Len shakes his head and pulls his phone back. After all, he _doesn’t_ know them. Not really. Not about anything that _matters._ Not aside from the first year of the elders life, and whatever reports and social media postings Rathaway could scrounge up for the rest.

They _seem_ happy, though. That has to be enough.

“Len.” Barry turns to him slowly, a worried frown blossoming on his face. “Who are those kids?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Len shoves his phone back into his pocket, going to stand.

Barry stalls him with a warm hand on his arm.

“Hey, you asked me that for a reason. That means they _mean_ something to you. And if you’re worried, then maybe I can help? If they are being abused, or-”

“Nothing like that.” Len cuts him off with a shake of his head. Sighing, he leans back and pulls the phone out again.

“Just…tell me what you see.”

Len slips him the device and watches Barry’s reactions. He narrows his eyes as he searches the picture. It’s obvious he is looking for anything _wrong_ popping up in the frame.

Len can see the exact instant Barry connects the same dots Len had so long ago.

His eyes widen and he flicks his gaze back and forth between Len and the picture.

“You…they…are they _yours _?”__  Barry whispers as he finally looks fully at Len.

Len just shrugs, keeping his eyes down on what he can see of the image.

“Their mother and I…we were together. Told me the oldest, Jason, was mine. Stayed together for a year after he was born. Then, she says I was never the father, and that the _real_ father is being released from prison. Kicked me to the curb, with a restraining order to boot. He ended up with a younger brother, two grades behind him. I just thought the happy family was building again after I left. Checked in best I could to make sure they were alright, considering the drug charges their _father_ served time for, and Angie’s previous occupation. Didn’t see their pictures until a few years back. Jason is twelve, now. His younger brother, Cameron, was born eight months after I left.”

He doesn’t say anything more. Doesn’t really _claim_ them. But he doesn’t need to. Barry saw the likelihood of Len’s relation himself.

Barry just sighs and sinks back. “Shit.”

Len hums in response. They sit quietly for a few moments before Barry speaks up again.

“Why did you show me this?” He asks, understanding now the meaning behind the picture, and wanting to understand what Len might be expecting of Barry’s input to the conversation.

Len turns to look Barry head-on. “Because I was reminded of a lot, this past week, and I saw how you and Iris are on a day-to-day basis. If anything does happen to me…I would like it if you could keep checking in on them. Make sure they are safe, and all that.”

Barry’s eyes darken in concern. “Len, nothing will-”

“Barry.” Len shoots his good hand up to cut him off. “Just promise.”

Barry looks at him with wide eyes. “Okay. I promise.”

“Good.” Len huffs and dredges up a smile. “I’m heading back to bed. I’m sure Iris would appreciate it if you joined us as well.”

Barry doesn’t respond, just watches him leave the room. The covers are cold and Iris warm when Len slides back into the bed they have come to share.

It isn’t perfect. Isn’t really _good_ right now. But Len feels better than he ever expected to after everything that happened recently. And the knowledge that someone else, who just happens to be a real-life super-hero, will now be looking out for those boys as well has him succumbing to slumber easily.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Profuse apologies for the heartbreaking emotions in this chapter. Showing Len showed with love and affection and understanding....I couldn't just have him basking in all that like I wanted him to. His character just straight-out refused. So this is the chapter that came instead.   
> I do have to make a confession. The brain-injury leading to Len's fantastic memory is something I remember reading a similar take on in another fanfic. I can't remember the exact reasoning or context behind it, and I have no idea which fic it came from. If any of my lovely readers remember and feel like sharing, please drop a comment below. I hate stealing from other work, especially if I can't post the original or ask the author for permission. As I don't remember everything about it...I apologize if that bit trod upon any other author's feet. Still, I liked the idea of having something good come from some of the bad Len went through, and wanted to include a bit of that in this fic.   
> Recently watched Happy on Netflix. It's a crass, vulgar, and outstanding bit of a show to watch for suitable audiences. Would recommend it to all readers old enough to enjoy such humor and content. Apparently, it was inspired by a comic strip as well. It's a far cry from the Flash, but still a good watch.   
> Also sharing a song I found recently. Bit of theatrical musical mixed with rock music. Much different from anything I've heard before, and a far cry from what I usually enjoy. The music video was on point, though, and I enjoyed the tale they wove through music and visuals. Give it a listen if you want. :)   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dc3XcTcTjaw   
> Thank you all for sticking around this far! We are getting so close to the end now, and I can't wait to share that with you guys! Seriously, this fandom is amazing! Thanks again, and I will see you next week!


	17. Chapter 17

To their credit, neither of them bring up the subject of Len’s boys again. Len isn’t stupid. He knows Barry told Iris. He knows the two probably pulled a few strings and connections to find out who and where and _how_ they are.

Went through a lot of the same loopholes Len likely did to make sure they were safe and happy. A father who had been clean for ten years. A mother who took a job as a cashier at their local grocery store. A strong average of A and B grades at school. _ _'_ Social Stars' _in their classroom settings. No incidents called in by neighbors or concerned citizens. No mysterious bruising or history of bullying, either as bully or victim.

Not quite middle class, but scraping the bottom of that social circle. A decent life. A good life, even. Not rich, but not dirt poor. Better than Len and Lisa had, growing up with a father who devoted his paycheck to booze and his nights to crime, when he wasn’t raging against his kids, that is.

Len left only a few days after he told Barry. Couldn’t stand the sympathy and concern any longer. Needed space to breathe and be at peace. Needed to collect and center himself again.

So of course, Lisa swooped in to poke and prod after his mental state. Rathaway already found out what Len needed to know; and the one wife, one sometimes-girlfriend, and three kids left behind by the men Len so recently killed had all received anonymous donations to their bank accounts. Trust funds, in the case of the kids; just in case their moms spent the money on less ‘providing’ sorts of expenses.

After all, a college degree pre-paid could undo a lot of damage done to ones future from living in the ghetto. Not everyone could rely on scholarships or getting the right job to drag themselves up from the social strain they were thrust into at such a young age.

So the deaths Len caused were well behind him. His shoulder was healing nicely. That just left Barry and Iris on his mind, as far as Lisa was concerned.

They ran their usual gambit of alluding to questions and side-eyeing each other. Lisa knew him well. Knew he spent the past week and some change with them. Knew how vulnerable that left him. How close they were getting before he needed some time away.

Her less-than-subtle continued interrogation is to be expected. After all, Len closed her off along with the rest of his ‘criminal lifestyle’ back when Angie told him of their soon-to-be-born child. Went as far off the grid as he could to keep them safe. Only let Lisa visit three times that entire year after his son was born. After how it ended…on top of everything else…Lisa was just cautious now. Knew his judgement could easily be skewed when it came to ‘healthy relationships’ and ‘matters of the heart’.

She didn’t baby him nearly as much as Iris and Barry had. Knew he would do what was needed to work the muscles and movement back up to full capacity. Knew he was healthy enough and on the road to recovery. Simply asked after his progress, instead of passive-aggressively reminding him (via innocently phrased questions) that he had to take his medicine or perform his mild physical therapy routines.

Went out drinking with Mick. Well, Len ordered a single beer and burger, while he watched Mick slam back shot after shot before making his way to the pool table.

Len would usually join him. Instead, he got to sit back and watch Mick ‘hustle’ (intimidate) some poor college blokes into a game of pool.

Was even able to enjoy himself and forget his troubles for the night. Convinced Mick to leave before he had to be carried home, which is always a win in his book.

So Len had had a good week. Smiled when he got the text that morning letting him know Iris and Barry still expected him tonight should he want to swing by.

Lapped up the dinner and conversation. Kissed back when they kissed him. Touched when they touched him. Reveled in their company and pleasure, up until it came time to undress.

He was still wearing the sling. Not necessary for the majority of activities anymore, just as a reminder to take it easy.

A reminder that seemed to have Barry and Iris hesitating.

“For gods-sake.” Len growled as he ripped the damn thing off. “I’m not an invalid. Not gonna break if we _fuck _.”__

“Okay.” Barry smiled and took his face in his hands. “We aren’t stopping, Len. Just don’t want to hurt you if this is too soon after what you went through.”

Len rolled his eyes and rested his hands on Barry’s hips. “I can’t strain it, is all. But last I checked, my ‘fun bits’ were quite far from my shoulder. I can still lie back and let you both fuck me all night long.”

Iris giggles and Barry smiles before they are kissing again. They move easily enough after that. Len does get to lie back. Iris situates herself over his face as Barry finds his place between his legs. They move with the familiarity of frequent lovers. They know each other well enough by now to do so.

And Barry does fuck him, and Iris rides him, and it is just as good as it always is.

They move to twice a week after that. Every Tuesday and Friday, Len will show up. They have dinner. They fuck. They sleep together, and Len leaves after breakfast in the morning.

It falls back into an easy routine. By the time another month has passed, Len is fully healed and nearly back at full strength. Unfortunately, that seems to be their cue to bring up certain _topics_ again.

“Lisa told me, you know.” Iris murmurs as she traces her fingers across his chest while they all lie in bed together, coming down from their sexual highs. “About Angie. Never mentioned the kids were actually yours. The opposite, in fact.”

Len swallows and feels his grip on both of them tighten for a second, before forcing himself to relax.

“She doesn’t know.” He hums, matching the quiet tone. “That’s what I thought at the time, after all. And when I did realize…it was late enough that I knew I could only make things worse.”

He can actually _feel_ them both frowning at that. Sighing, Len maneuvers himself enough to sit up.

“Angie said some things. Back then. Implied I would turn out like Lewis, and I was on a path that made me think I just might. Still do, sometimes. But I did check in best I could over the years. And both those boys are happy. Whatever happened in the past….they have good parents, now. I would just be taking them from that and into a life of crime and danger if I tried to step in now.”

“Lisa turned out fine.” Barry argues, grabbing his hand and holding tight.

Len snorts. “Lisa is a criminal, in case you forgot, and she didn’t exactly have anyone else stepping up to the plate. Those boys are in a good place. I got shot a month ago. Killed again a month ago. What type of life would I give to them if I tried for anything? I still have warrants out for my arrest, and that restraining order was never retracted.”

Len closes his eyes and focuses on breathing slowly. “I want to be there. I do. Just…I learned a lot from Lewis. Not about what I _should_ do. But what I _shouldn’t_ when it comes to kids. If they need me, I’ll be there. But until then…everyone is better off if we keep things as they are.”

Len knows they want to argue. Can feel their thoughts swirling. But the tense and resigned set to his frame have them biting their tongue.

They’ll bring it up again. Of that, Len has no doubt. But they give him his time for the moment. And it’s all too easy to fall back into pleasuring each other some more before sleep instead of talking.

Weeks pass. Len and Barry and Iris grow closer still. Zoom seems to be a bigger and badder threat by the day.

It’s just reached the point where Len feels he should step in and offer Barry his help with the other speedster when the unexpected happens.

Len and Mick are _kidnapped_. Wake up on a roof with a bunch of hero types. Given a whole _spiel_  by the man who took them about the world ending.

Says he gathered them to stop it. That they were _Legends._

Len and Mick pass. Of course they do. It’s stupid to agree to jobs without thinking them over first.

They have a day. One day to reach their conclusion.  

Mick already knows Len is thinking about it. Knows how much he wants to prove himself. To be the man Barry and Iris think he is. To become the father worthy of his kids, even if Mick hasn’t connected those dots yet.

“Why did we become criminals?” Len still feels the need to ask. They banter and bicker and swirl around the offer. Mick is more hesitant than Len. There isn’t anyone in his life expecting him to be _better _.__ Len and Lisa like him just fine as-is, after all. So Len goes for the hard sell. Of talking up stealing throughout time. Becoming the best thieves in history.

It’s all words. They both know that Mick will follow if Len goes. It’s already late. Len considers just calling it a night, but Mick still has to butt in.

“Go on.” He grunts, barely looking at Len. “We both know you’re dyin to see yer lovers.”

Len sighs and shakes his head. “It’s late. They’re probably sleeping.”

Mick snorts and shakes his head. “What? You scared to tell them or sumthin?”

Len glares at him for a few minutes before huffing.

“Guess I have time for one more night with them.”

Mick cackles and waves him off. “Please. As good as they have to be in bed, you ain’t foolin anyone with pretending it’s just a booty call.”

Len scowls, but doesn’t deny it. Knows how flat his objections would fall. So he snidely grabs his coat and stalks from the room.

A quick text does, in fact, confirm they are still up. Len let’s out a heavy sigh before starting his bike. It’s going to be a long night for all of them.

XXX

Barry smiles at the message. It isn’t on one of their usual days. It’s too late for dinner, but if Len is hungry, then Barry is always willing to pick something up.

Iris smiles as well when he tells her Len is on his way. They both putter around for a few minutes; tidying even if they know they don’t need to. It’s something to kill the time until Len gets there.

The knock at the door has both their heads turning and smiles lighting up their faces.

Len can barely dredge up a grin when they answer the door. “Hey.”

“Come in!” Barry’s smile falters at his expression, but he does his best to remain cheerful.

Len makes a beeline for the couch and sinks onto it with a sigh. “We need to talk.”

And those four words have the cheerful mood fleeing Barry and Iris at even faster than _flash_ speeds.

“Okay.” Iris pulls Barry to sit down with her as well, frowning in concern. “What about?”

Len clasps his hands on his knees and looks them both directly in the eyes. “I was given a proposition tonight. I’m inclined to say ‘yes’.”

Barry and Iris are used to him being dramatic. Are used to him drawing out issues that are difficult to talk about. So they keep their expressions open and wait for him to continue.

Len sighs and looks away. “Time travel. Something about saving the world. The guy running it all wants Mick and I on his crew.”

There is a moment of stunned silence before Barry and Iris dive in for details. Ask about how Len was approached. Who the guy was. Who else was going. What he was shown. What the mission would be.

They talk it all over. Len makes sure to reiterate he isn’t a _hero _,__ just taking advantage of the opportunity to steal throughout history, and maybe make a name for himself by pitching in a little good here and there in the process.

Barry and Iris have already seen through his facades. But they know acknowledging it makes him uncomfortable, so they don’t fight Len on the argument.

It doesn’t even cross their mind to tell him to stay. After all, he’s going to help save the _world _.__ The _future _.__ And he’ll be on a time ship. For all they know, he’ll be back tomorrow.

The sex continues for a few extra rounds than usual that night. There is too much adrenaline and emotions riling them up to sleep comfortably. And while Barry and Iris might expect him back as soon as tomorrow, Len will be gone for much longer on his end.

So they kiss and touch and caress and suck and hump the night away. Iris ends up on her back, Len between her legs and Barry behind him. Barry lies on the bed, Iris bouncing on him and Len standing to the side, holding Barry’s legs aloft as he pounds into him. They switch positions and switch angles and move about the bed; all while moving as one and beaming and giggling with the familiar feelings and motions they have grown accustomed too.

They skew the 69 position, going for more of a lopsided triangle as they each taste and groan and roll into the other. Len will never tire of this. Of tasting those two. Of _feeling_ them. Of _fucking_ them so _sweetly_ he wonders when it truly became more than sex (or if it ever was just that).

Afterwards, they lie panting for breath and holding each other close, while Barry and Iris beam and Len’s gut swirls with apprehension.

Iris is the one to join him in the shower again the next morning. Barry had insisted on a large breakfast to send Len off ‘properly’.

Len does his best to savor each and every moment with them. After all, he has no idea _when_ he will be back.

It’s only when Len realizes that his time has run out that he stills them both with his hands on theirs.

“I know we didn’t talk much about it, but….if I don’t make it back, I want them to know. Jason and Cameron. I want you to tell them about me. And if you can, I’d like it if you kept checking in. Take them in, if something happens.”

The joy Barry and Iris were wearing dims at that. Len forges on. “Lisa has access to all my accounts. There is more than enough money in there for all of you. And she’ll make a fantastic aunt as well.”

Len’s grip spasms on their hands. “I still don’t think I’m ready. Don’t want them weighed down by my life. But it would mean a lot to me, knowing you two were there for them if things go south. Don’t expect them too, but I honestly have no idea what to expect here. And I hate going into anything without a plan. This is the best I can come up with until I know more. Knowing you two will be there for them, and for Lisa…it helps.”

They nod and smile and say all the rights words of reassurance and acceptance as he makes his way to the door.

He swallows thickly as he looks at them. They never said the words. Never claimed love. But it feels like it. And Len wonders if this is the right time to voice it.

He can’t, in the end. Drags them both in for one final clashing of lips and teeth and tongue, before stepping backward with a shaky smile.

“Be seeing you.” He does his best to smirk, fondness oozing from him eyes.

They both smile at him in farewell.

“Go save the world, Len.” Barry says.

“We’ll be waiting.” Iris adds as they hold each other close.

Len takes one more second to absorb the image before walking away.

After all, he has a future to save.

XXX

Lisa sets down her drink and gives Mick a narrowed glare. “So. Time travel.” She states.

Mick nods. “Yep. Len is dead-set on getting himself this shiny new hero gig. No doubt for his boy and girl, to make them happy or some shit.”

Lisa finally cracks as she snorts. “Nah. Lenny’s still gonna be the same jerk he’s always been. Just won’t be able to deny it any more when people mention any of the good shit he’s done. It’ll be good for him.”

“Lucrative too.” Mick sneers and Lisa laughs. Leaning forward, she grins conspiratorially before asking, “So, what exactly are you two planning on stealing?”

Mick matches her posture, eyes lighting up as he replies. “Well, we have our eyes on a few different pieces. Tell me, you ever heard about the Crown Jewels of Ireland? Or what about the Florentine Diamond? Also thinking about trying to nab some of Da Vinci’s work that was never found. Or maybe some from Van Gogh, or…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter closer to the finish line, folks! Again, thank all of you fantastic readers and those lovely individuals who take the time to drop a comment. You all are the best, and I love that I am able to share stories like this with you! This chapter was a mix of nothing happening and a lot happening as it builds into the next chapter (a.k.a.-Legends of Tomorrow). I'll try to stay mostly true to the plot of Legends, but things will be skipped over and the time-line of events may not always line up right. I don't want to change a whole lot of that storyline, but also don't want to focus on it more than the plot of this story. For anyone who tried to summarize an entire season in one chapter, I know you understand what that's like.   
> 3 more chapters left!!!! Hope you all enjoy, and I'll see you all next week for the next installment in this story!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning!!! See end of chapter notes for said warning. It included a character death, detailing what is behind it and the outcomes of said death. If this could be triggering, see the notes. This will contain trigger warnings for this chapter and the next, so you have been warned in case you want to avoid that.

The Legends are the _worst_ crew Len has ever been apart of. They don’t trust each other, for one. Even as criminals, Len always made sure his crew could at least trust the rest to watch their back on the job. That didn’t happen _here_ , however.

It was clear from the beginning Mick and Len weren’t trusted. Even Sara was left behind in the _‘we need you, just not right now’_ spiel. Jax stayed of his own accord. Len couldn’t blame him.

Not after being roofied. Not with how much Len could _relate _,__ even if he couldn’t share that with the others just yet (or ever).

Len rolled right into the character they expected him to portray. Didn’t reveal any more than they deserved. Mick followed suit. After all, they were recruited for being criminals. And criminals were all the others saw them as. Why should they peel back the layers for those sanctimoniousness pricks?

Sara was the first to catch on. She called Len out on his bullshit when they were careening in a stolen car back to the Waverider after an _invigorating_ and  _enlightening_ bar fight.

“So. Who do you have waiting at home?” She questions casually.

Mick snorts and Len tenses. “What makes you think I have anyone?” He asks, indifferent tone taking on a cold and cautious quality.

She laughs, relaxing into her seat. “Please. I know people. Know how to read them, and spot any cons in a heartbeat. And you’ve been flirting without an inch of follow-through since we ended up on that tin can. Also, you only look at my ass when someone else is looking. Means you only do it so people notice, not just because I have a great ass.”

“You do have a great ass.” Len grumbles, glaring out the window.

“Yeah.” She smiles easily. “Doesn’t mean you actually want to bury your face in it. Means there’s another _ass_ waiting your attention somewhere else.”

Len pouts and Mick chuckles. For however much Mick wants to spill the beans, he knows better than to do so before Len is ready.

Turning to face Sara head-on, Len simply stares at her for a second before replying.

“I do so because I _like_ you, Sara. You and Jax have been the only two to treat Mick and I like _humans_ instead of just _criminal scum_ so far. Also, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, you’re one of the few I can’t read. Pretty Boy, the Hawks, and Firestorm are all straight-forward enough. That just leaves you, and our prickly _Captain _.__ And I doubt he would be flustered into giving any _insight_ on his intentions or character if I tried flirting with him, however progress the future might hopefully be. That just leaves you as the one wild card I was trying to get a read on.”

Len knows his honesty is a leap of faith. Knows he is showing his cards with this, just as he knows Sara has already picked apart his intentions. But without _flirting_ his way into seeing her true colors, he was betting this was his best play.

She examined him as well. “Rip chose well. Picking up you and Mick.” She eventually replied with a small grin.

Len snorts and turns back. “So. Keep up the flirting? I know it hasn’t been long, but I do so love how it makes the _crew_ uncomfortable.”

Sara laughs, drawing another grin from Mick.

“Fine. But only because I like you, and only because I know you’re all bark and no bite.”

“Why Miss Lance…” Len drawls with a smirk. “Who says I don’t bite?”

She laughs again while Mick snorts. “Please.” Mick groans. “I don’t want to know what you do with your boy and girl.”

Len does still and glare at that. Mick was at least smart enough not to drop names. But outing his polyamorous relationship could still do damage, even if Sara was more than comfortable with the less ‘traditional’ orientations than those shoved down societies throat.

“Hmmm, boy and girl, huh? Guess you have to have more stamina than I figured, keeping up with two.” Sara muses as she grins, flashing them both a wicked flash of teeth.

And that’s how they heard all about the threesomes and orgies Sara had delved in over the years. Their friendship is happily cemented by the time they pull up to provide back-up. And if they keep flirting…well, it only cements their camaraderie, and never fails to elicit the uneasy reactions from the crew. She keeps hounding him in private for more details about his lovers. Len just insisted he isn’t the ‘kiss and tell’ type.

It works. They circle each other. They help each other. They back everyone up. And it all still goes to _shit._

Len can’t help it. Mick watches him closely once they realize the year they are in. Even backs Len up, when he _knows_ Len is messing with fire.

But Len can’t help it. As much as he adores Iris and Barry….as proud as he is of those boys he might never be a true father too…as much as he appreciates Mick, and loves what he has become….Len would _still_ give it all up.

It isn’t just for him. Not just for him growing up without the abuse. It’s also for _Lisa _.__ For all she suffered when he wasn’t around. Len wouldn’t change a thing if it was just him. But for Lisa…Len would do whatever he could to erase every scar from her skin and every hurt from her heart.

Len even lets Jax in. Opens up a little. Accepts the support offered. Not that it _changes_ anything. Not that it made a _difference_. Not that it kept Carter from _dying _.__

That’s the event that drives home how _dangerous_ this all was. It isn’t just death they face. Len has to evaluate his choices in the solitude of his room that night. Fights his way through a panic attack when he goes over everything that could have gone _wrong_.

Lisa might have never been _born _.__

Len might have caused a _paradox_ , if he actually changed events and wrote himself off the Waverider.

Could have erased his _sons _.__

Could have never met _Mick_ , or _Barry_ , or _Iris._

Could have thrown _everything_ he now loved into _nothingness_. And for what? For a father that didn’t _beat_ him? For a _mediocre_ life? For a few less _scars_? For a _slightly better_ life for him and Lisa?

Sara is the one who finds him in the kitchen. Of _course_ she is. She prepares a cup of tea for herself to match Len’s.

“Gideon told me.” Is the icebreaker she chooses.

They don’t talk much. Well, they actually _do,_ after those first few minutes of contemplative silence. Sara goes over her time as an assassin. All the pain she endured. The training that might as well been _brainwashing_. Every piece of herself she lost in the process...

Len matches her stories. Talks a bit about _Lewis_. Of the cons that went south. Of the first life he took. Of how much easier it got after the bodies piled up. Of his failings. Some of his insecurities. His worries about their current  _Team_...

Sara shares those as well. They both know these ‘heroes’ won’t be able to win. Not if everyone couldn’t work together.

Worry over the ones left behind. Family and loved ones. Len still doesn’t drop names, but he does describe Barry and Iris for who they are. Their bright personalities. How open they are. How caring and accepting and forgiving. How smart they are. How rightly proud they stand. All their little quirks that make Len smile.

Sara smiles as well. “We’ll figure all this out, Len. We’ll kick this team into shape, and then we’ll all go home once Savage is dead, so you can have all the hot and sweaty sex you want.”

They both chuckle at that, finally calm enough to try and catch a few winks of sleep.

Things don’t magically get better after that. Sure, none of them are _dying_ every mission. But they never truly succeed. Never change anything. Only seem to make things _worse _.__

Failure after failure. Conflict after conflict. It doesn’t matter what truths they uncover about each other. They still seem to be drifting even _further_ apart.

It all culminates. Of course it does. Len ends up staring Mick down. They had been having difficulties lately. Never have they been so at odds; even back when they had to split for time to cool down. Even when they let each other down. Even when they were ready to send fists flying at each other.

They have never been so far apart as now. Len doesn’t know where it all went wrong. Can’t pinpoint the moment it changed. Can’t see which string of events led to _this _.__

But they had been coming here all along. Len knows it. _Feels_ it, even. _Hates_ it.

And so he leaves Mick behind. Something he promised to never do again. But he did, and the rest of the crew seem more than comfortable thinking he just _killed_ Mick.

Even Sara thinks so. _Sara_ , who _knows_ them better than the rest. _Sara_ , who knows _Len_ better than the rest. Who should know he would _never_ do that to Mick.

But they all think Len _killed_ him. And they all avoid Len, even as they avoid the subject of _Mick _.__

Len’s unease grows. But they are stuck on their path. Committed. They just need to finish their mission. Then Len can get Mick. Then they can all go back home. Then they can be _normal_ again.

It just keeps getting worse. More failures. More tension. And then _Kronos_ is back.

Only, _Mick_ is beneath the mask. _Mick_ is the one hunting them. And Mick _hates_ Len now.

He can’t hold his emotions in check. Feels _acutely_ the sting of how _utterly_ Len failed Mick. His heart aches for all the pain Mick went through because Len wasn’t _good enough_ to keep him safe. Because Len  _left_ Mick behind...

It’s like watching Lisa bleed under Lewis’ fists all over again. But the stab to the heart doesn’t stop there.

Mick threatens _Lisa _,__ who he always saw as a sister from the day Len introduced them.

Threatens _Barry and Iris _,__ who he never knew the names of, and would always joke with Len about.

__…_ and then I’ll go back in time, and kill them again. And again. And again. And again…_

Len has to close his eyes every time he remembers that. The ache it brings never dulls. The guilt he feels never looses its sting.

His hand is gone, but at least he can save Mick. He can do this much for him, after how spectacularly he failed him. The crew let him live. Mick ends up in a cell. Len with a shiny new hand for his agony and effort.

It’s all falling apart. _Been_ falling apart. And then they have to leave Jax. With _cowboy racist scum of outlaws _.__

How they all thought it would be a good idea to leave him behind still astounds Len. Even with a prisoner of their own, it was still _risky _.__ Especially for _Jax _.__ Especially given the _rampant racism_ of the time.

And yet, none of them second-guessed it. At least, not at the time. It was only later, when Len laid in his bunk, that he thought of the potential consequences.

Len had grown up with his fair share of bigotry and prejudices. He should have _known _.__ Should have _seen._

Couldn't help picturing how close Jax came to a _lynching._ Swallowed as he wondered if Jax had to drag himself to the med suit afterwards, with whippings still being a popular punishment and pastime for white men to inflict upon people of Jax's color. He didn’t think so. Jax didn’t seem the type to hide injury or trauma like Len would be tempted to do. But still…

They should have _cared._ Should have _known._ Should have tried harder. Should have done more…

But then there is more Time bullshit, and they are going after their past-selves to keep them safe. Then they are kidnapping their _baby_ selves.

This whole thing is spiraling. And Len doesn’t see a way out. Swallows down his apprehension. Breathes through the increasing panic attacks.

Sara is no longer waiting to comfort him in the kitchen. No one seems to care, any more. It’s like they are all just following their roles. It’s like they aren’t _themselves_ anymore.

Len tries to record a message for Barry and Iris on Gideon a few times. He can never get his voice to work, no matter how he tries to bolster his courage.

_I’m sorry._ He wants to say.

_It’s all gone wrong _.__ He wishes he could voice.

_I don’t think I’ll make it back._ Fear and regret grips him tight at the thought.

_I’m not the hero you said I could be _.__ He always fought their faith in him, but always hoped they would be _right._

_I think I might love you both _.__ He would give _anything_ to have been able to tell them that in person.

Mick beating him into the ground was _nothing_ compared to the pounding of Len’s heart when he realized what Mick was trying to do.

No way in _hell_ was Len letting Mick take the fall for Len’s mistake. Not again. Never again.

“My old friend. Please forgive me.” Len drops the drawl. Allows his guilt to shine through. After all, Mick had been trying to get out. And Len always forced him back in. Forced him back, and left him behind, and avoided the Mick-that-wasn’t-Mick after _Kronos_.

It was all Len’s fault. This was his way to make things _right_. Not just for him and Mick, but for all of them.

Sara graces him with a kiss. They both know it isn’t passionate. There are no promises of might-have-beens. It is simply the goodbye it is. The acknowledgement of his sacrifice. The final physical comfort and connection to linger until the end. He smiles sadly as he watches Sara drag Mick away. Remembers her description of death. Is glad he will be alone for it. He would hate to drag anyone he cares for into the shit that is coming.

He didn’t know how far back the Occulus affected. Didn’t know what events would or wouldn’t have happened without it’s intervention.

Maybe Len would have had a decent dad.

Maybe Mick wouldn’t have burned his house down.

Maybe Sara wouldn’t have died.

Maybe Ray wouldn’t have lost his wife.

Maybe, maybe, _maybe_ ….

Len can’t help but remember his life. Tries to focus on the positive. Remembers every great heist. Remembers Mick at his side. Lisa’s smile. Barry flashing around him, taunting him and playing the game Len set up. The way Iris held his hand. The first time Len held his son.

Tries to force down the guilt. The regret. How he accepted the out Angie forced on him. How he stayed away from his boys, even after realizing the truth. How he never told Barry or Iris the truth of his feelings. How he still couldn’t open up with them. How often he let Lisa down. How many tears she shed. How many scars she bore.

“There are no strings on me.” He still taunts at the end. That isn’t true. The Occulus didn’t draw all his strings. He would be freeing the others, for sure. But Len still had many ties.

His sons, however distant.

Lisa, from the moment she was born.

Mick, however strained.

Barry, however he let him down in the end.

Iris, however he let her down as well.

_Go save the world, Len._

Is this what he was supposed to do? Is this how he becomes a _hero _?__ Is this what they _wanted_? Len can’t help but wonder, even if he knows this isn’t at all what any of them expected from his venture in time to save the future.

_We’ll be waiting_.

They would be waiting a long time, now. _Forever _.__ And Len can’t help but feel like he failed them, even in this. Even in _saving Time itself _,__  as the light envelopes him, and a sudden tug jerks him, before everything goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!!!! INCLUDES SPOILER WARNING!!!! 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING
> 
> SPOILER WARNING
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING
> 
> SPOILERS BELOW:
> 
> The warning is about a temporary character death. I have had a lot of people ask me about this. I didn't want to include it in the tags for those who wanted to be surprised by it, but I also wanted to let those concerned readers know about it beforehand. This was the best way I could figure to do so. Long story short...Len's death will, in fact, be temporary. I won't tell you how it will be reversed, just that it won't be lasting. Those concerned have been warned, and those who wanted to go in blind have hopefully passed over this. Again, no major character deaths have been posted, because it won't be permanent. Characters will go through the motions of said death and fall-out, so please make sure you are prepared for that. Also, please don't mention that relief in the comments. I would like to preserve the surprise for those readers who want to skip this warning if possible. Thank you! :) 
> 
> END SPOILER WARNING
> 
> END SPOILER WARNING
> 
> END SPOILER WARNING
> 
> SAFE TO READ WITHOUT SPOILERS!!!
> 
> Well, there it is guys! As I said, this is meant to be a summary of the entire season of Legends. The timeline does jump around a bit, and episodes have been skipped over. It shows some of the highlights for Len, without bogging the story down by spreading this to multiple chapters going over it all. Sorry if the inconsistency bothers you, but I thought this was the best way to pen it all. For those who read the spoiler/warning, you know what happens next. For those who didn't, next chapter picks up with Barry, and we see his struggle with Zoom. Things will mostly follow close to cannon, culminating in the episode where the cross-over happens to fight the Dominators. For real though, we are dangerously close to the end! Thank you all for following along! Love you comments, love your support and critique, and love that I am able to share this with you! Thank you all, and I will leave you with a parting video I enjoy. It definitely isn't for all. It's Father of the Wolf by Amon Amarth. First half has no music, just the exposition part of the video. Follows a tale of Thor vs. Loki, in classic Viking style. Like I said, not for all, but some might like it. For those who enjoy Viking culture, this will hopefully be enjoyable!   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KwdcFVsmYtU


	19. Chapter 19

Barry and Iris smiled and speculated. Remained giddy and hopeful. Len went off to be a _hero;_ and they couldn’t wait to welcome him back with open arms and a warm bed.

He didn’t return the next day. Or the day after. Or the day after that.

They still remained optimistic. After all, how were they to know the exact science of time travel? Len would be home any day now. They just had to stay positive. Stay _ready_.

And then life interfered once more. Both their jobs picked up the pace. Flash duties kept Barry running dry.

They barely had time for each other, much less waiting for Len. And so the weeks passed. And then Zoom was back in full force.

Dealing with that was _excruciating_. Barry couldn’t help but wonder how it might have gone had Len been at his side.

And then Henry died. Barry had to watch his _father_ be killed just as his _mother_ was. All because Barry was the _Flash_.

This was on _him_. He couldn’t shake that. Couldn’t forget the light leaving his father’s eyes.

Shoved it all down to face down Zoom one final time. He won, in the end. But at what _cost?_

Everyone else was celebrating. Barry secluded himself to the porch; Iris soon following.

“How are you holding up?” She asked softly as she curled into his side.

Barry just sighs, gripping her close.

“Not good. I know today was a win….but it doesn’t feel like it. I lost my mom because I’m the Flash, even though that happened years before I ever got my powers. And now my dad is gone for the same reason. And Len…. _god,_ Len’s out there doing who-knows-what to be a _hero _,__ just because we _asked_ him to, Iris. I….I know he’s doing good. Being the man I always saw in him. But I still wish he was here. Wish we could even just _talk_ to him right now.”

“I know.” Iris snuggles closer in return and tucks her head into his shoulder. “I miss him too. Thought he would be back in no time, you know? Didn’t think it would take this long. And now….now I wish we had asked him to stay. At least long enough to work out a way to communicate.”

They don’t talk much after that. There is so much guilt. So much grief. Too many emotions to express in _words _.__

But they do hold each other close. Barry thinks briefly of going back in time. Of saving his mother. His father.

But then he remembers Len. Remembers he would have never met him in such a timeline.

So Barry refrains. And Barry grieves. Iris holds him tight as Henry Allen is lowered into the ground. The ceremony is small and heartfelt. Barry stands before his parents twin graves long into the evening.

Iris is there to pick up the pieces. Iris is there to comfort him. And they both seek each other out fervently, even as they continue to miss their third partner.

Lisa had left town a few days after Len boarded the time-ship. She had stopped by to talk to them first, letting them know she understood what was going on. Gave them a number to reach her if they needed anything. But without her brother here, Lisa couldn’t stand Central.

They didn’t blame her. Knew what she endured here under Lewis, after all. Understood why she would want to leave without anything to tie her here.

Work quieted. Flash duties were sailing with easy pickings. And all their free time meant more hours worried over Len.

He still wasn’t back. None of them were. Barry had even reached out to the families and friends of some of the other Waverider _heroes _.__

They hadn’t heard anything either.

The worry had just reached a boiling point when it was forced onto the back-burner.

Savitar showed up. He was creating new metas. Ones that claimed to be from another time-line.

A time-line Barry supposedly was supposed to create. The fact that he _didn’t_ wasn’t stopping this. It was what he was _supposed_ to have done. The fact that something _stopped_  him from going through with it didn’t change the outcome.

Just like that, they were swamped. Work picked up. Flash duties ran him ragged.

The metas after Len only dredged up an aching loneliness in them. Barry had no doubt Len would have been able to handle them. The only problem was that he still wasn’t _here._

Barry cried after he stopped them. Curled into Iris that night and sobbed his brains out.

“What if he never comes back?” It was the first time Barry actually vocalized the worry that had been pestering him for weeks.

“He will.” Iris assured, though her shaky delivery showed how concerned she was as well. “It’s Len. He’s a _survivor,_ Barry. He’ll be back.”

The tears ran through the night. Left Barry drained and dry. But he felt better after letting his emotions run their course.

Focused back on the whirlwind his life had become. Shoved down the worry. Buried the doubt. Plastered on a smile and went about his days.

That all changed the night a ship came crashing from the sky. Dominators. _Aliens_. And not the nice kind of E.T.’s either.

They were all in over their heads. Barry had gone after Supergirl. Was ecstatic, and slightly pissed, when he returned to find the Legends were on their way.

Barry had been asking all his friends about them, after all. They should have _told_ him if there was a way to contact them.

Still, Barry couldn’t help but grin at the thought of seeing Len again. He even called Iris so she could be there.

It was a dire situation. No time for a proper reunion. Didn’t mean they couldn’t steal a few minutes together to catch up. And the lifting of spirits could only help in the fight to come.

The Legends sauntered into the warehouse. Barry kept his eyes peeled for the one person he was desperate to see.

Len wasn’t there. Barry can _feel_  his absence. Acutely feels his own disappointment and growing apprehension.

Tries to explain it away. Remembers how close he was with Lisa. Maybe he stepped out to check on her. Maybe he was following up on updates regarding his sons.

Barry was able to cling to these excuses through the general spiel of why they were all gathered and what they were facing.

Iris gripped his hand tightly, noting the single absence just as sharply as he was.

Finally, Barry could hold his emotions in no longer. “Where’s Len?” He asked the crew at large, hoping his voice didn’t waver as it seemed to in his mind.

They all seem to glance at each other. Everyone except for Mick, who keeps his eyes trained on the ground.

Ray is the one to eventually answer him. “Ah. Man, I’m sorry Barry. I forgot that…we never told you.”

Barry can hear the sorrow in his words. The regret. The _loss_.

Shaking his head, Barry can’t help but tighten his grip on Iris’ hand as she gasps beside him.

“Tell me _what?”_ He demands, blinking back tears.

“He sacrificed himself.” Ray responds, somber and full of lingering emotion. “Saved us all. He died a hero.”

Barry distantly notes that those words should be a comfort. Len died a _hero _.__ Just like Barry always insisted he could be.

It didn’t feel like a relief. Didn’t feel _good _,__ knowing he was right.

It felt _awful._ Felt even worse than loosing his _father _.__

Barry wasn’t overcome with grief. Not now. Not when he couldn’t face it. Instead, _rage_ took control.

He heaved in a few sharp breathes before racing forward. Mick was pinned to the wall of the hanger before Barry even realized he had moved.

“You _knew!”_ He screamed, lifting Mick off his feet by Barry’s fists clenched in the man’s shirt. “You _fucking knew!!!_ How could you keep that from us?”

Barry was furious as he demanded an explanation, shaking the man slightly as he lifted him higher. Mick just avoided his eyes; clutching at the hands holding him. Barry grit his teeth in a sneer as he _seethed _.__

“Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?” He growled, getting in his face. “He was your _partner_ …” It came out more injured than angry.

That was about the time he felt the blade against his throat. Sara was beside him, holding her sword surely, even if her expression was sympathetic.

The rest of the hanger were assuming various battle-ready stances.

Iris was still standing with a hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes.

“You _knew_.” Barry had to insist, even if his insistence was broken and wrecked. “You _knew_ …”

Barry finally sagged enough to release Mick as the _hurt_ overcame him.

“Couldn’t tell Lisa, either.” Mick grunted, looking away. “Felt too _real,_ letting anyone know.”

From the appalled reactions of the rest of the Legends, it was clear they didn’t know about it either.

“I went to her.” Mick admits. “Planned on telling her. Of having her tell you ‘n your girl. Just didn’t feel right. Not after what went on between me ‘n Len at the end.”

Barry was shaking, fists still clenched in Mick’s shirt as he shook through the sobs threatening to overtake him.

The blade left his throat. Barry barely noticed. Sara placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, leading him away from Mick and towards her. “So you were who he had back at home.” She says, gently guiding him further away.

Barry doesn’t know how long he breaks for. How long he and Iris grip each other close as they feel the sharp pang of loss.

The others give them space, but he still knows they are all talking about them. About them and _Len _.__ About why Barry is crumbling under the _hurt_ of loss.

He eventually pulls himself together. Plasters on a face ready for _battle _.__ Barry isn’t in the mindset to be a _hero._ He is _hurting._ Hurting, and thankful for the _enemy_ available to take out all his rage and pain on.

They still need to save the world, after all. Barry can go after Mick and sort through his feelings with….with _Len’s absence_ after this is all over.

Everything goes to _shit_. Of course it does. Barry can still feel the ache constantly. But he doesn’t focus on it. Not when there is a threat so much bigger than just _him_  facing the Earth.

The aliens want Barry. They are scared of him. Terrified of the consequences he might bring down on existence, even if he still never created that _goddamn alternate timeline!_

Barry knows he isn’t in his right mind. Knows he just wants the _ache_ deep inside him to stop. So he agrees to their terms. Accepts sacrificing himself for the greater good.

Len went out a _hero_. It’s only fitting Barry should do the same.

Those assembled don’t let him. Fight against it. Battle against his festering apathy. Come up with a _plan _.__

Barry follows along, if only because he has grown so numb to everything surrounding him. Even Iris is stumbling in her own path of burying herself in _heroism _.__

It leaves a foul taste in his mouth now. The word _hero _.__ Barry can remember every flinch and every _sneer_ Len delivered at the word. Has to wonder if he _knew_  this is where it would lead him.

He took the hits for Lisa growing up. Played her _hero _,__ and paid the _price_. Maybe he knew better than any of them the true fate awaiting _heroes _.__

But he still left. Still went to do _good._ All because Barry and Iris encouraged him to.

They win. _Of course_ they do. The aliens have been defeated. The Earth goes on. But Barry’s world is still in shambles.

Len is gone. _Gone _,__ and never coming back.

Sara tries to comfort him. Tells him about how happy Len always looked talking about them, even if he never dropped their names.

Hesitantly admits to kissing him. Barry tries to be jealous. But under the circumstances…Barry is just glad Len had someone there for him at the end. Glad he didn’t die alone….

Iris is the one to gather the others while Barry wallows. She is the one to demand details. To go over everything that happened, and come up with a plan to change it.

Barry doesn’t want to let himself hope. But he has to admit that this sounds like it might _actually work!_ And everyone is one board. Even Supergirl and Team Arrow stick around to figure this out.

Barry still has concerns. Knows the consequences of time travel and alterations. But the Occulus was outside time. And there just might be a way to make things _right _.__

It still takes a few days. Barry goes over everything with the Gideon running the Waverider. Asks for every outcome imaginable. Works through every detail.

Cisco even helps out. Barry feels bad. After all, Len had kidnapped him and his brother in the past. Cisco was still salty about Barry and Iris getting it on with Len without telling him, but he was more than willing to help after seeing how devastated Barry was.

Mick has Len’s ring. The one he always wore on his pinky, but had yet to tell Barry or Iris about. With the help of that personal item, Gideon is able to lock onto just before the explosion. After all, this isn’t like the time travel she is used to facilitating.

Supergirl joins them for the journey. Barry wanted to be the one to save him, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to wait long enough to intervene without changing anything. And the Waverider has to remain far enough away to keep out of sight. Only Supergirl can fly through space quickly enough to return him after his rescue without him suffocating in the vacuum of space.

They arrive with only minutes to set up and prepare. Supergirl flies over to remain in the background until the start of the explosion. Then, she’ll pull Len away, wrap him in her cape for protection from the blast, and fly them both to the ship for any medical treatment needed.

Barry can’t help but pace in apprehension. Iris follows suit, even if she worries away across the floor at a more human pace than Barry’s.

The minutes drag on. Barry knows Supergirl had to wait until the explosion starts. Has to wait until the kill-switch no longer needs to be held.

Doesn’t stop his worry. His apprehension. His silent tears.

He was assured Gideon could repair any damage. Even lost limbs (much to his horror, when he heard the story of Len having to re-grow a _hand _,__ and his justified anger at the Legends flippant attitudes to going through such a trauma).

Didn’t stop his pacing. Nor his worry. Nor his agitation.

He is brought up short by the detonation of _light_ growing before his eyes in the window to the outside world.

His breath catches and heart thunders as he realizes that _Len was in the middle of that._

He is still gasping and clenching his chest by the time Gideon announces Supergirl had returned with Len.

She took him straight to the medbay, and Gideon hasn’t even had time to scan the injuries before Barry flashes himself and Iris there.

Iris blinked the confusion away quickly. She had already been prepared for something like this the second Len showed up.

But neither of them were prepared for the sight before them.

Len looked _awful _.__ Burns covered a good portion of his body, and there were areas on the table that should have been _full_ of flesh that was _absent _.__

They can’t talk. Can’t move. Can’t _think._

Kara is the one to usher them out as Gideon gets to work.

“I’m sorry.” She tells them, so much regret in her face and tone that they believe it. “I had to wait until it started. And he was so close….I’m lucky to have gotten him out at all.”

They go through the motions. Thank her. Accept the reassurances the others provide.

Then they wait.

And wait.

And wait.

There isn’t anything else to do. Gideon said that even with all the tech at her disposal, it would take hours to repair the damage. Even longer for him to regain consciousness.

The others wait with them. Food is shoved under their nose. Coffee slung into their hands. Gentle hands rested on their shoulder. Mild tugging upon their frame's to lead them to the bathroom and showers. Soft pleadings to get some rest.

Time passes slowly. It only took a day or two. A day or two of the most anxious and painful minutes Barry has ever endured.

Iris holds his hand tight enough to bruise, and Mick avoids them like the plague. Not that he can blame Mick. It isn’t like Barry wants to see him now either. Not after what the Legends told him about his _actions_ against Len in those final days. Especially not after what Gideon informed him Len had spoke of to her.

Even the rest of the Legends glare at Mick after that.

_Gideon?_ Len had asked in his room; so, so long ago (and just days past, now). _Can one of the crew members go back and….kill the people I care about? And then go back and do so again? And…_

He doesn’t get much farther. But Gideon had shared his emotional distress when Barry asked. Revealed everything Len had talked about. About the threats _Kronos_ made against him and those he loved.

Mick had threatened Lisa. Had threatened Barry and Iris. Hell, he might have even threatened Len’s _kids _,__ if he had learned of them as well from the Time Masters.

Barry does understand Mick went through something horrible. Knew that Len had already forgiven him, in his own way. After all, it was _Mick’s_ place Len took at the Occulus.

That doesn’t help Barry feel any better about him. If anything, it just makes Barry resent Mick _more_.

He knows it isn’t rational. Knows they are all just hurting. But Barry is wound too tight with worry and sorrow and rage to think clearly.

So he shuts down. Clutches Iris tight and _waits_ to keep from doing anything he might regret.

Gideon finally says Len is ready for visitors. He isn’t awake yet, but his flesh has been repaired.

Barry can’t stop looking at him. Reaches out with shaking hands to _touch _.__ To make sure Len is whole and alive and _there _.__

Chokes back a sob as he jerks his hand back. Can’t help but remember their first night _together _.__ Remembers holding each other close in a cell in Iron Heights. Remembers Len’s screams. The way he couldn’t stop touching Barry after. The amazement in his eyes when he looked at Barry.

Is this what Len had felt like? So surprised and relieved and awed at the _living_ being before him in place of death?

He had just dreamed of Barry’s demise. Had endured the mental torment, and came out the other side with Barry safe and sound beside him.

Len had _actually_ been dead for Barry. _Would have remained dead_ , if Barry and Iris hadn’t intervened with everyone’s help.

And he couldn’t stop looking at Len, now. Never wanted him to leave his sight. Wanted to hold him close and safe and secure for the rest of their days.

“You didn’t have to.” Barry eventually chokes once the room is empty, save for Len and Iris. “I already knew you were a hero, Len. _My_ hero, even if you didn’t see it. You didn’t have too…I didn’t _want_ you too…”

Barry sucks in a shaky breath as Iris leans against him. “Just wake up, Len.” Barry eventually continues, tears pooling in his eyes. “Please, just wake up…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left you guys!!! This story has seriously been amazing to write, and I am so happy to share it with you all! You have been fantastic, I'm not going to lie. The support in the comments has meant worlds to me!!! I have another video I would like to share. It will not be to everyone's standards of music, but the writer/lyricist is beyond the majority of music I listen to. Even if you don't appreciate the music, read the lyrics. They are poetry incarnate in my opinion, and their songs helped me through my darker teenage years growing up in a church that didn't care for who I was outside their conformism. Not gonna lie, I would have been (and still would be in) a darker place, if not for lyrics like these. It brings out a sort of acceptance outside the norm, and let's people know its okay, and that those persecuting them are in the wrong. Video below, for those who want to see the lyrics I'm talking about.   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KDEXPegIAHs   
> It's by Cradle of Filth. Again, you don't have to listen to the song if it isn't your style. Just read the lyrics. :)   
> Thank you all again, and I will see you next chapter!


	20. Chapter 20

Len had woken up confused. He could feel the drugs swirling through him, numbing the pain. The tingling under his skin reminded him of when Gideon re-grew his flesh.

Barry and Iris were at his side in an instant. They gave him the space needed to process everything going on.

They had saved him. The Occulus was gone. Everyone else got out fine, but it would still take him a few days to recover. His skin was new and soft. His muscles needed to strengthen. His body was full of aches and pains, but at least it was whole. And even that soreness would fade in a few days.

They stayed in the temporal zone while he recovered. Everyone made their rounds. The Legends he remembered. Some of Team Flash. A member or two of 'Team Arrow' from Starling. Even someone called _Supergirl_ from another Earth, who had been the one to drag him out of the explosion.

Len was on edge with so many faces surrounding him. Barry and Iris kept a close eye on him. For once, he didn’t mind their mother-henning, since it drove the others away whenever he felt too overwhelmed.

Mick had sat down for a long talk with him. Went over what happened while Len was gone. He blanched at the passage of time. Worried after Lisa. Worried after what happened while he was…well, supposed to be _dead._

_Would_ have been dead, if not for Barry and Iris organizing this rescue party.

Len still wasn’t comfortable around Mick. He was different. _Changed _.__ And his threats as Kronos still echoed in Len’s mind. He couldn’t even fault Mick for not telling Lisa. After all, Mick was the only one he would trust to deliver such news. And even then, after what he threatened to do...Len didn’t want him anywhere near her. He had forgiven Mick. Had tried to make things right. But that didn’t mean he _trusted_ him again. Not with Lisa, at least.

The one change he enjoyed was how close and open he felt around Barry and Iris now. He had changed as well, and come to terms with a lot while with the Legends and when he thought he was going to die. It would seem they had been through a journey of their own as well.

Len felt for everything they had gone through. Mourned Henry Allen as well, and tried to provide the same support that Barry had provided so long ago in a cold, lonely cell in Iron Heights.

Len got better. Of course he did. He was a stubborn bastard, and had plenty of other stubborn assholes to urge him on when he faltered.

Kara, _Supergirl _,__ a real life _alien _,__ was amazing! Len couldn’t help but like her. Grinned at her antics and personality. Surprised himself at how much he trusted her openness and compassion. Found himself sincerely thanking her for her part in his rescue.

It came to an end as soon as Len was well enough to leave Gideon’s tender mercies. Len had contacted Lisa as soon as they were back in Central. She had left town, which was to be expected, so she wouldn’t be back for another day or two.

Iris and Barry still wanted to treat him with kid-gloves. Len wouldn’t have it. He was finally _home _.__ He was _whole._ Len would be damned if he went another moment without seeking release with them.

Their bodies were just as he remembered. Taste just as delicious. Scent as enthralling as ever.

It was quick, without being rushed. Len just couldn’t wait. Urged Barry on with only minimal prep before entering Len.

The burn grounded him beautifully. Reminded him he was _alive _.__ And Iris clenched blissfully around him as he thrust deep inside her.

Barry and Iris didn’t turn to each other afterwards as they had in the past. It would seem they were more interested in continuing to touch and taste and feel _Len_ , than in pursuing any immediate second or third orgasms with each other.

They went on late into the night. Late enough for Len to get it back up again. It was the first time he asked Iris to play with his prostrate.

Barry shook beneath Len’s thrusts. Len trembled as Iris stroked him deep and steady with her skilled fingers. And then Len was able to taste Iris upon his tongue as he worked her towards her own release.

Breakfast came late the next morning, as they all slept in. Barry outdid himself with the feast awaiting them once they finally roused themselves.

The ache of _belonging_ hit Len. It was in that moment that Len realized this was what he wanted. For the rest of his life, he wanted to wake to this. Iris, warm and steady in his arms. Barry, caring and grinning as he slapped together food enough for even his own metabolism, and Len and Iris, and extras to save for later.

The way they smiled at him…kissed him….casually reached out to _touch _,__ and the burning in their eyes when they _looked_ at him….

Len remembered the Occulus. The feeling of failing them. The disappointment he felt for himself at even the idea of letting them down.

He opened up to them that morning. It was difficult; it always would be. But he knew what he wanted, and knew what he had to do.

Finally told them about the abuse. About the first time Lewis beat him. The first time he hurt Lisa. All the blows Len took for her. All the blows Lewis dealt solely to him.

Talked about his cons. How long it took him to master the art without submitting himself to unwanted touches or sexual assault during his early days. Opened up about his relationships.

About how Alexa put him off sleeping with criminals. How Steve taught him not to trust one night stands. How Angie made him avoid prostitutes. And how Connor made him feel the deep _need_ to always watch his food and drink being prepared.

Talked about his time with the Legends. Everything that happened. Went over the whole shit-storm. Talked about Mick as Kronos. How devastated Len felt when he realized the cost his best friend had paid for Len’s failures and mistakes.

Went over Mick threatening Len. Len’s loved ones. The dead-pan delivery that didn’t even hold a hint of glee at achieving revenge. Of the pain of loosing his hand to save Mick from his teammates.

Of their fight afterwards. Of how distant and different Mick remained.

Even stumbled over how he felt at the end. The emotions and thoughts that held him captive when he faced down the destruction of the Occulus and Time Masters alike.

It was well past lunch by the time he finished. They had to take multiple breaks throughout it all. But Len forced himself to see it through to the end. They needed to know _everything_. Because Len was done pretending he wasn’t _invested_ in this.

He didn’t want weekly visits. He didn’t want to be a _hero_ , but he knew he couldn’t be satisfied as just a thief now either.

They ask him to move in as soon as he admits to wanting more. Len doesn’t even hesitate. He doesn’t want to be alone anymore. Doesn’t want to loose them. Wants nothing less than simply _existing_ with them for the rest of his days.

So he agrees. He already has enough of his belongings from the Waverider here to last him awhile. The rest can be figured out later.

Months pass. Len and Lisa had worked out a decent visiting schedule. Len didn’t want to tie her to this city, but they still liked to check up on each other. It was harder to visit her now that he had a permanent home. But they made do, and things seemed to be looking up for both of them.

Cisco had even been talking to her regularly. They were keeping things slow and long-distance for the time being. Len knew Lisa had plenty to work through in opening herself up and facing Central City. So he didn’t pressure or criticize either her or Cisco. He truly did wish them the best.

Things settled with Barry and Iris. It wasn’t always easy. They still fought, occasionally. There were still triggers that flared to life from time to time. But they were growing even closer, and navigating around each other wonderfully.

The sex wasn’t bad either. Just kept getting better with time, if Len was being honest. It wasn’t always the three of them. They all had very different schedules, after all.

Sometimes it was just Len and Barry.

Sometimes just Len and Iris.

Often, it was just Barry and Iris. Mainly when they were ready for Round Two, while Len just rolled his eyes and muttered about youth and metahumans, before either picking up a book or propping himself up to watch.

Team Flash had come around on Len being in their lives now after the second metahuman threat he helped out with. Their loyalty was solidified once Len came up with a plan to defeat Savitar.

He went behind Barry’s back. Had to, if he wanted to catch Savitar by surprise. They were able to convince him that Barry’s speed (and Savitar's, by proxy) was being stolen. The only serum to counteract that was in the future.

The Legends were waiting to ambush him. Effectively stole his speed forever with future tech. Even went about getting him the help he needed and started a new life for him.

Len still couldn’t really understand the nuances of time. But there were instincts he had now that he trusted regarding it. A gift from the Occulus, perhaps. Or maybe just a side-effect of time travel.

Either way, Team Flash was on his side. Even Team Arrow grudgingly accepted him. Supergirl loved his wit, and always laughed at his puns.

Eventually, Detective West grudgingly accepted him a few weeks after Barry and Iris introduced him as their partner. There were the expected threats and huffs that their past brought up. All in all, Len still thinks it went well, even if Barry and Iris don’t like talking about that _first family dinner._

All of that led to now. It had been six months for Len since the Occulus. Thanks to Iris and Lisa, Len had been in contact with Angie for weeks now. And thanks to his recent bout of hero-work, Len’s record is clean once more.

This would be Len’s first time seeing _both_ his sons in person. Angie wasn’t comfortable with them staying with Len just yet, but she was willing to lift the restraining order and give him this trial run.

If all went well…Len could start seeing them on weekends. Maybe even work up for more time. Could be there for birthdays and school events. Could see them grow and change and mature right in front of his eyes, instead of through a screen of social media posts and teacher reviews.

Len was parked in front of their house. It was only Iris with him, right now. They had all agreed it would be better to wait before introducing Barry. Not just because of the other-than-straight implications, but also for the polyamory.

Len hoped his sons would accept it. They seemed to have been raised as decent human beings, but it was better to assume the worst in situations like this. Len had had his fair share of bigotry growing up. He didn’t want his first interactions with his boys to be tainted by that in either of their memories.

They were still getting used to the idea of the dad they grew up with not being their blood-relative. It would be difficult enough for them to meet Len. He would save the deeper parts of getting to know each other for later.

“Ready?” Iris gripped his hand and smiled at him when he hesitated too long.

Len took a deep breath, turning off the car and giving her a shaky smile.

“Ready.” He announced, kissing her briefly before steeling himself for the road ahead. It was time for him to meet his sons. Len was done running.

He would be a father. He would always be a thief, but he knew he could be a hero now as well. Lisa was doing well. Mick was better than ever with the Legends. And Len couldn’t be happier with the relationship he formed.

Barry and Iris weren’t at all like what Len expected from his life. They were worlds better than what Len had come to expect in partners or lovers. He truly was the luckiest man on Earth, thanks to them. And their smiles and kisses and trust in him said the same.

Len didn’t always have a good life. But he had come to terms with it, and wouldn’t change a second. Not when it led him _here _.__

“Don’t forget to smile.” Iris jokes as she bumps their shoulders.

Len grins and pulls her close. “I’m about to finally meet my kids. And I have you at my side. How could I not smile?”

Iris beams and Len revels at how _right_ everything feels now. He is happy. Well and truly _happy _.__ And he wouldn’t give that feeling up for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is, all! We have finally come to the ending of this tale! I want to thank everyone who read, or commented, or left kudos on this story. You all are awesome, and I'm so happy to have shared this journey with you!!!   
> Tomorrow, for me, is Free Comic Day! Lots of great comics to be given away, sales to entice customers, and a great way to support local comic shops! My friend and I will be hitting up our favorite shop, and checking out a few others tomorrow! So, great weekend planned for me :) And it's a great note to go out on for this fic!   
> I wanted to add one final song to share for this story. The link will be below, and it is incredible to write to/read to/relax to. The language used in most of it is proto-germanic, and went out of use around 600 A.D. I believe. The visuals, story, music, etc. all brings listeners back to that time. Back to stories told and songs shared around campfires. Back to a place where nature was worshiped through their gods, and civilization still mostly consisted of small villages and empires. There is one difficult scene in the song, that I found hard to watch, but I feel the anger in that verse conveys the emotions meant to be portrayed. It really speaks to me, as I am mainly Cherokee on my fathers side, and Norwegian on my mothers; both of which really tune into nature more than some other areas of ancestry I could have come from. I recommend checking it out, and thought it fitting for this chapter. Wrapping up the conclusion of this story by casting back to recent (if hundreds of years ago can be called 'recent') roots of current civilization in the West. Also shows some of the aspects of humanity that remain unchanged, and the conflicts we continue to face.   
> Anyways, give it a listen if you want :)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vPFhQhLYU4I  
> Once again, thank you all for reading! I hope you liked it, and look forward to sharing more of my imaginings made written word with you in the future!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Updates will be weekly for the first few chapters. This is written separate yet at the same time (for me, the author) as my other work, which has been moved to bi-weekly updates. I have written enough to feel comfortable posting this. Love all feedback, positive and negative, and want to thank everyone for reading!


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